


The Worst Campus Housing in Town

by spacetrash_uwu



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderbending, Other, ancom has ambiguous ethnicity, drama or angst or smth like that, dubcon sorta kinda if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 102,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetrash_uwu/pseuds/spacetrash_uwu
Summary: When Ancap's dealer Ancom ends up homeless, she offers them a place to stay in her shared flat, in the one room she hadn't been able to rent out. She couldn't have known one of her other roomies was going to have a problem with Ancom's skin color.Trigger Warning: Ancom is enby and will occasionally be misgendered, gun violence
Relationships: Anfash - Relationship, Authright/Homonationalist, Leftist unitiy, Libunity, Rightist Unity, authunity
Comments: 170
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

Ancap was always awake early to check her cryptocurrency stocks. She also stayed up late to check them. And she’d obsessively check on them during the day, though that didn’t really stick out, since most of her peers stared at their phones all the time anyway.

But, the whole procedure devoured a lot of brainpower; sleep was important, or so she had been told in elementary school, and her stupid useless body would have eventually gone on strike with her habits if she hadn’t found Ancom.

Ancom had an even worse habit than never sleeping: drugs. So many. Enough that they always carried around a stash of their own, sometimes in secret pockets under their oversized pullover, sometimes sticking out of their jeans pockets just to piss off the lawful. Ancom had offered Ancap an assortment of chemicals when they had seen her nearly fall asleep on a park bench checking her stocks, as always. And hey, if they were stupid enough to hand them out for free, Ancap wasn’t about to say no.

That started a wonderful friendship in which they’d meet at that park bench whenever Ancap was out of the cocaine derivative Ancom had carried around the week prior, and Ancap would insist on at least paying a small amount of money, especially after Ancom had let it shine through that they were indeed struggling with acquiring cash; Ancap had been unable to swallow the derisive comment on their bad handling of their wares probably playing a role in that, earning a very mean glare and a lecture on helping those in need in return.

Alas, her small payments towards the increasingly frustrated drug dealer couldn’t deflect the inevitable: At their last meeting, Ancom had admitted they were going to be homeless _very_ soon and therefore unable to hand Ancap her usual supply.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Ancap had said, amicably leering at the small person almost disappearing in their pullover and leaning over, “I need those wakey wakey pills. I’ll cut you a deal: I own a campus housing building; if you sign up for college for the next semester, I’ll collect your benefits for affirmative action, but you won’t have to pay rent for that amount of time.”

The glow in Ancom’s eyes had been to die for. They seemed to believe that their occasional prattling on kindness and humanity had made an impact on Ancap. It hadn’t. Ancap just wanted her dealer close by. And those charity stipends had always looked way too good to pass up on, but Ancap was from a wealthy family and pale as a sheet. Ancom on the other hand – dark skinned, assigned female at birth, and now homeless – was a star candidate for those checks.

They shook hands to seal the deal and Ancap made to fill out the application form for Ancom, already knowing it would take much longer than necessary if she let her little friend see the terribly limiting choice of only two genders, the genuinely weirdly bigoted way of looking at race, and the demurely classist language.

She already had a room for Ancom: She had rented two of the spare rooms in her apartment out to other students, but there was always that one stupid room no one wanted; it was more broom closet than room, but a very spacious broom closet, as she found. Most people who took a look at it complained especially about the lack of windows and ignored her hurried explanation that obviously not every room in every building could have windows, that just wouldn’t work out geometrically.

Finally, the day had come where Ancom would move in and basically become her personal drug courier. Splendid.

Her two other roommates had arrived earlier, nearly at the same time. A pretty blonde in a light blue lace dress that was a tad too long to be properly sexy, and a tall brunette unironically pulling off a black leather jacket and gloves with combat boots.

Ancap greeted both of them exuberantly and showed them around the flat, praising its great worth as she went from room to room. Their rooms were next to each other, the two biggest ones in the apartment; Ancap didn’t need a large room when she owned the whole building and could charge for room size. At the end of the hallway separating their rooms from hers and the spacious broom closet, was the heart of the place: a very clean open concept kitchen with plenty of sunlight falling in. Not even Ancap could oversell it.

Her two roomies were apparently not the fun type, since they both mostly looked on sternly, nodding and making listening noises instead of showing any emotion; they both seemed pretty keen on going to their rooms.

“A fourth flatmate is going to arrive...soon, hopefully,” Ancap ended her short tour, “and there will be housewarming-get to know each other-type party in the evening which I highly recommend!”

The two of them nodded and slinked off to their rooms, though Ancap imagined a spark in their eyes at the mention of a party.

Ancom rang her right when she was trying to get to know the tall girl, Commie, who had decided to cook something for the four of them. How kind of her.

Buzzing Ancom in, Ancap happily announced their arrival, making sure to clue in Commie on the fact that Ancom was very weird with their pronouns. Commie raised her brows but shrugged, dumping some cream into her stir fry.

With Ancom at their door, Ancap rushed to greet them as excitedly as she had the others, guiding them right over to their room right by the door. She switched on the lonely light bulb dangling from the ceiling, casting the room in the dim glow of a broom closet.

“It’s...empty,” Ancom commented.

“I assumed you had your own stuff to put in,” Ancap grinned. Now that she saw the sad reflection of the empty room in Ancom’s eyes, she started to maybe sort of see why people didn’t want to live in it. Well, better in here than homeless.

“I...don’t,” Ancom said, stepping in and dropping their holographic backpack on the floor along with the small duffel bag they carried.

“We’ll get you some sleeping arrangements in no time, don’t you worry,” Ancap patted them on the back, sharp grin painful now that it was artificial. “In much better news, Commie is cooking for us, and it smells right about done. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Ancom eagerly nodded, trailing after her towards the kitchen.

“Greetings,” Commie held out her hand as the other continued stirring the food; only now did Ancap notice her slight accent. Ancom stared at the hand for a second, then shook it, wincing just a little when the taller woman squeezed.

Ancom distrustfully peeked into the pan. “What’re you making?”

“Leftover stir fry. The first meal I learned to cook, and the only meal you really need to know how to make.” It sounded like a joke on paper, but the serious delivery made it only awkward. Ancom just nodded, not looking very happy. “It’s just about done now. You can go fetch blondie,” she commanded.

Ancap quickly jumped up and knocked on her last roommate’s door, getting a muffled and slightly annoyed _what is it?_ in return.

“Commie made us dinner, if you want some.”

Shuffling from behind the door. Then, the door opened a sliver, and the pretty girl slithered out, very mindful not to let Ancap take more of a peek inside than absolutely necessary. A private person it seemed; Ancap could respect that.

Ancom and Commie already sat at the small dinner table, the former awkwardly pushing around their food. Charming as always, Ancap made a small bow, gesturing for her third tenant to enter.

She didn’t.

A weirdly long moment passed, with all three pairs of eyes on the blonde girl as she stood in the doorway, nose slightly curled.

The two at the table quickly regained their composure and made to ignore the little moment to instead talk among themselves, and she used the elevated noise level to her advantage.

“What is this?” she whispered, leaning closer.

“What?” Ancap wracked her brain to figure out the problem. She couldn’t, and when her new roommate saw that, she shook her head and stalked over to join the dinner round. Ancap shrugged and followed after her.

“I guess we can begin now,” Commie stated; Ancap spotted her seating neighbor lifting her hands for a second before sheepishly putting them down towards her cutlery again. Had she wanted to hold hands for a pre-meal prayer?

“Is this vegan?” Ancom blurted out. They must’ve been holding their tongue for a while. Ancap tried to kick them under the table, but missed.

“No. Vegetarian though, there was no meat in the fridge,” Commie said dryly, putting a dignified forkful into her mouth.

Ancom made a face and pushed the plate a bit away from them. Their mumbled “I’m not that hungry” was comically underlined by their rumbling stomach.

“I happen to think it’s delicious,” Ancap cut in. “And great for before a good night of drinking. On that note,” she got up and walked towards the fridge, picking up some beer bottles from the back, “who wants to start early?” It hurt her to hand out freebies, but she knew slightly drunk people were much more likely to spend even more money on alcohol later at the party.

The trio awkwardly agreed to a bottle each, although they all seemed uncomfortable, first and foremost Ancom. They were also the one to take a big sip out of the bottle as soon as they got it.

“So, what do you study?” Ancap sat back down and addressed the blonde girl.

“Political science,” she replied, and Ancap noticed now that she was impolitely staring at Ancom sitting opposite of her.

“And you?” Ancap moved on to Commie, who had managed to subtly almost empty her bottle.

“Constructional engineering.” Now you could _really_ hear the accent.

“And you?” the blonde parroted Ancap’s words, though the friendly varnish sounded stilted as her lip curled with her attempt to smile.

Ancom looked up and fidgeted in their seat. Looking lost, their eyes plead with Ancap, but she found it too amusing to watch them squirm as she took a sip from her beer.

“Sociology?” they answered insecurely. Ancap had chosen the subject, having determined it to be the place where Ancom would stand out the least; she needed them to be comfortable so they’d actually visit the classes and she could collect that sweet stipend money.

“Ah,” she took a big gulp from her bottle, beginning to catch up with Commie. “I hope you’re not prone to brainwashing then. Your ki- type is way too naive at times,” she was still smiling, and the smile was pretty, no doubt, but her eyes didn’t match the sentiment.

Ancom didn’t respond, though their face morphed into something very careful.

Blondie’s grin was unwaning. When she didn’t get an answer, she continued the conversation by herself. “I hope I don’t have to warn you about the cultural Marxists who have infested practically all the social sciences,” she leaned back in her seat.

Ancom jumped up and hit the table. "That’s a fascist dogwhistle!” they called out, stabbing their fingers at her.

“I’m not the person who made up the name,” she replied, unperturbed.

“What are you, a fascist?”

“They’re called cultural Marxists. They called themselves that. Look it up if you don’t believe me; you don’t seem to know the first thing about sociology. Say, are you only studying it because a white friend of yours recommended it? Since you’re clearly not from here, maybe they-”

Ancap was just about able to quickly dive in between the girl and the fork Ancom had attempted to throw at her. The retaliation was in turn prevented by Commie pushing a now standing blondie back at the wall.

“What is the point of this?” Commie asked angrily.

“I’m just trying to warn her that-”

“It’s ‘they’ you Nazi asshole!” Ancom shouted from behind Ancap, who had wisely copied Commie’s move.

“What? 'They'? You can’t sit here in a crop top and hot pants and ask me to call you 'they', that’s ridiculous!” That one actually sounded genuine. Not that that helped. “You guys can _not_ be on board with this.”

Ancap felt more than saw the betrayed eyes boring holes in the back of her head when she didn’t instantly reply.

“You’ll call them whatever they want to be called, for the sake of peace,” Commie ordered.

“I’ll call _her_ , who looks like a girl and dresses like a girl a fucking girl all I want.”

This time Ancap did want to interfere, but Commie was once again faster. “Alright. But we also get to call you what we want.”

Everyone in the room wanted to protest. “Calling me a man doesn’t make me one, so-”

“I don’t know what your name is, but we’ll call you _Nazi_ from now on.”

“Whatever, if you want to call me that-”

“Oh and it fits, too! You _are_ a Nazi, so calling you anything else would be ridiculous!” Ancom chimed in.

“Sure, whatever,” Nazi tried to play the shitty nickname off, but Ancap could see the cracks.

“Yeah, I’m also okay with that solution. We call you Nazi and you can call Ancom ‘her’ until you turn gray.”

Ancom was already at the verge to another tantrum, but, miraculously, Ancap was able to hold them back with a conspiratorial look.

“Fine by me,” Nazi shrugged a last time before disappearing into her room, food only half eaten.

“I’m gonna go to my room, too,” Ancom weaved out of the kitchen, head bowed.

Awkward silence.

“Do you have something to put the leftovers in?” Commie asked after a moment.

“Yeah, sure,” Ancap fished out some Tupperware from a drawer and Commie began dumping what was left on the plates into it.

“I believe Nazi is actually fascist.” She said it so matter-of-factly, Ancap almost didn’t hear it.

“What?”

“We should alert the owners of the building they’re housing one.”

Ancap bristled. “Okay, hold up. First of all, _I’m_ the owner,” raised brows from Commie, “and second of all, so what?”

“She’s fascist.”

“And?”

“You shouldn’t be giving her discount shelter.”

“No no no,” Ancap shook her head. “I don’t think you understand how this works. I don’t give a _shit_ if she’s a fascist, a racist, or a Nazi. If she pays, she gets to stay here. That’s the only rule.”

“She’s going to cause trouble.”

“Then I'll throw her out then. As far as I’m concerned, her, or anyone’s political leanings here are none of my concern. You pay, you stay. This isn’t a gun shop, I’m not gonna do background checks.”

Commie mumbled something poisonous in a foreign language before stomping off. Her boots were very loud.

Ancap stuffed the Tupperware into the fridge and threw the door closed, sighing. She checked the clock on the stove: The party was already beginning. She’d be fashionably late.

Before she went back to her own room, she went ahead to Ancom’s door and knocked. She took the noise coming from inside as permission to enter.

Ancom sat on the floor, first signs of clutter already making themselves known as some of their clothes lay strewn around them, and was fumbling around with their bong. They looked awfully tense.

“You okay?” Ancap asked, slightly confused, as she sat down besides them Indian style.

At first, they shook their head, but it quickly morphed into nodding. They inhaled the steam from the bong, exhaling right into Ancap’s face. “You also want some?”

“I’m good.”

Ancom prepared another load.

“You might wanna save some of that.”

“For what?”

“For later. Or for selling it. Maybe even at the party.”

“Why would I do that?” Ancom sounded cagey as they exhaled, this time slightly away from Ancap’s face.

“I assume you don’t have any money. How are you planning on getting some if not by selling drugs?”

“What do I need money for?” they sounded offended, “I thought you’d let me stay here for free!”

“For the money in the stipend. But that doesn’t cover food. Or drugs. Or whatever else you may need. That’s on you.”

“Seriously?”

Ancap threw her hands up. “I never said I’m a goddamn charity. The stipend only barely covers room, heating and water.” That was a lie, but only by a little; sure, maybe it was true if it had been possible to rent this room. But Ancom didn’t need to know nobody would’ve taken the offer.

“Look,” she schooled her voice into a charming susurration once more, “how about we take some of that weed,” she picked up a little plastic bag by Ancom’s thighs, “and sell it at the party? There will be plenty of teenagers who won’t know how much it costs on the market, so you can sell it for overprice.”

“That’s fucking evil, dude. I don’t wanna scam children,” Ancom made a face, but didn’t snatch back the bag.

“How much did you buy it for?”

“Nothing. A friend gave it to me for free. Like a good person.”

“Alright, so be it. But, consider this: the others who might sell the kiddies weed will definitely also charge overprice – much more than you have to, since you got it for free. But you can still ask for a fee for getting it to them, right?”

They didn’t look much happier.

“Trust me on this one, most people wouldn’t even take the drugs if you don’t charge them for it. They’ll think you’re trying to poison them or something.”

Their face became a little softer.

“So you’re doing everyone a service if you sell it at an affordable price; yourself, me, and them, too, since you’re providing them with cheap, but high quality drugs.”

“If you say so.”

“What do you say, wanna doll ourselves up for the party?” Ancap got up and held out her hand to Ancom. They took it, clearly already a little unstable on their feet. _Alcohol on an empty stomach._

“You get dolled up?” Ancom asked as they walked into Ancap’s room.

“Of course! I love costumes.”

“Is it a costume party?”

“No, but _all_ dressing up is a costume.” She opened her closet, holding not only her everyday clothes and a few pretty elegant dresses, but also quite the number of wigs; one of the reasons she wore her hair as short as she did was for them. She loved collecting them and putting them on. “What do you think about blonde and a golden dress?” she pulled out both items for Ancom to look at.

“For you or for me?”

“For me of course. I don’t think you can afford the fee for borrowing any of my clothes.”

“You’re gross.”

“I’m practical. Who’s to say you won’t ruin any of my precious few items? There’s gotta be something in it for me as well.”

Ancom just rolled their eyes.

“Also, I assume you have your own party clothes to get into.”

“These are fine, don’t you think?” they gestured at the ragged tie-dye crop top and high waisted hot pants.

“You look cute, but poor as shit.”

“I _am_ poor as shit.”

“Well, if that’s the first thing you want anyone to notice about you, be my guest.”

Ancom crossed their arms and rolled their eyes. “I don’t care what people think about me. And I'm pretty sure you’re going to be overdressed.”

“I don’t mind that at all,” Ancap purred as she fixed the long, golden blonde wig to her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this stupid quarantine. How good I just recently found another thing to latch on to so I at least have something to do with all that sweet sweet spare time.
> 
> Suggestions always welcome, whether it's spelling errors or fun plot ideas!


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, the foursome had manged to get to the ground floor hall of the apartment building together, and without a big fight breaking out, too. Commie had stood between Ancom and Nazi, the latter two not even once making eye contact. The prideful way Nazi stared ahead at the elevator door on the ride down had been downright offensive, or at least so Ancom thought. What a piece of shit. They’d get her.

The party was absolutely packed; everyone from the building and all of their friends must’ve been there. It was loud and hot, despite the big screen door opening to the attached garden being open, a chilly breeze drifting through the crowd every once in a while only to be swallowed by the damp heat emanating off the bodies once inside.

Ancom liked parties, but they were rather intimidated as they trailed after Ancap to quickly get their plan over and done with so they could wash away the shame and nerves with drugs and alcohol. Most parties they had been to were with their friends, not with so many different kinds of people.

They were genuinely appalled as they walked by what seemed to be a table of picture book frat boys lewdly commenting on the single girl sitting with them; she seemed to enjoy the attention, giggling flirtatiously and throwing back her blonde curls. She took one of the boys’ hats and put it on, grinning at him as if to dare him to get it back. He did, and Ancom had to avert their eyes from the violent energy he exuded. They heard the girl’s loud giggle over the crowd and in turn pressed up closer to Ancap.

“Found a target?” she asked. She looked like a whole different person in her new get up – from androgynous used car salesman to elegant hostess. She was definitely overdressed.

“No,” Ancom kept their fingers clasped around her arm, pulling themselves closer. Ancap’s high heels were terribly irritating, increasing their usually only small height difference to a considerable one. She even moved more smoothly, rolling her hips as if it was second nature.

“Well, you better. Look, there,” she pointed at a handful of very uncomfortable looking teenagers standing huddled in a corner.

Ancom sighed and tapped over to them, joylessly offering them weed. They resisted at first, but just by sticking around, the group’s defenses crumbled and they each bought a small bag. When they unsurely looked at their purchase, Ancom lowered themselves to show the youngsters how to roll a proper joint, making some extra money when they sold them some tobacco as well. Ancap would be proud.

“Good job! Now do that with everyone you stand next to long enough to breach the topic, you hear?”

“Can we just party? I'm here to have fun,” they complained, latching back onto Ancap’s arm. Nazi had left them long ago to go god knows where, and Commie was standing tall among what seemed to be friends from her classes.

Ancom caught themselves staring; Commie breathed coolness. She stood out in the crowd not just due to her height, but the bright red camisole dress she had mismatched with her black boots ghosted around her curves almost too alluringly. She had seemingly tried to disarm it with an olive dress shirt she wore off the shoulder, but it didn’t work at _all_.

“Are you listening?”

“Huh?” Ancom directed their attention back towards Ancap.

“If you want to party, let’s go mingle, right?”

Ancom nodded and they sat with a group of people having a great time drinking and arguing over the noise; two of them introduced themselves as Ancap’s cousins.

It was Ancap who talked most of the time; not that they’d ever admit it, but Ancom was still shaken from their encounter with Nazi. They took a quick swig of the long drink Ancap had handed them, hoping to dampen the memory. They had been around fascists before, of course, outspoken ones even, and Ancom had threatened them and their stupid horrible ideas right back. But this was different. This one lived with them. And none of their friends were around to shield them. They were on their own.

Another hefty sip.

Ancom was being way too quiet. Ancap had seen them steal several glances at Commie still standing with her engineering buddies, and it was getting annoying, and the more drunk she got, the more annoying it was.

“Hey, I love this song!” she said when a song she knew was very popular with crowds came up, ordering the group to go dance with her and effectively forcing Ancom to join them if they didn’t want to sit around alone.

Ancom didn’t seem reluctant to come anyway; they tripped twice on the way to the dancing masses, supporting themselves on Ancap, but still cajoled enthusiastically with the others.

They danced to the music, Ancap also taking the opportunity to flirt with some of the boys she hadn’t seen around yet. She always got bored of them fairly quickly; their dancing was graceless and their eyes dull, and Ancom, having secured a spot right behind her, kept _touching_ her. It was very distracting.

Giving in to what she had planned on doing from the very beginning, Ancap turned around and took Ancom’s hand, spinning them around. Ancom seemed to enjoy themselves.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable, dancing in heels?” they asked, yelling over the music.

“It’s worth the look,” she replied, giving a cocky smile.

Ancom seemed to disagree, but didn’t say anything.

_Gotta do all the work here, huh?_

“You don’t like it?”

“I like your normal stuff better. More individual,” Ancom shouted in between their jumps to the beat.

Ancap grinned, gesturing for them to follow her. Ancom did as they were told, padding after her.

“Where are we going?” they asked when Ancap pulled them into the elevator. They stumbled, falling against her. Ancap didn’t mind at all when they took their sweet time to push themselves off again.

“Someone’s in a snuggly mood,” she commented.

“I get touchy when drunk,” Ancom mumbled as they let themselves be dragged to their shared apartment and into Ancap’s room.

“Are you changing now?” they giggled.

“It looks like it’s going to be a long night, right? I think I’ve impressed enough people by now,” she smirked, extracting her hair from the wig and slipping out of her dress in the most alluring way she could. She put her dress pants from during the day back on, together with a cropped fleece pullover to match Ancom’s colorful crop top.

“Wanna take a line before heading back down?” she asked as she put on her silly sunglasses for extra effect.

Ancom nodded eagerly, crawling closer from their perch on the floor, over to Ancap’s desk. The taller girl prepared two thin lines of stuff she had bought from Ancom not too long ago. As Ancom sniffed across the table, white powder a stark contrast to their darkish skin, ideas were aligning in Ancap’s head. She did her own line, violently shaking her head as the strange chemical burn spread through her system. Ancom was on the floor again, delicious thighs spilling onto the floor. She had to crouch down next to them, come closer, touch them – she nearly threw up on the spot when Ancom leaned away, giggling and falling on their back.

Evading one of Ancom’s slowly flailing legs at the last second, Ancap regained her senses. The burn turned into clarity, and she more ordered than asked the person on the floor to get back up and down to the party.

Either the music was going hard or the drugs were, but the two of them immediately ran towards the dance floor, moving right to the center of the crowd. They bawled wrongly remembered lyrics to every song, Ancom’s squeaking mixing with Ancap’s croak to make for some genuinely cacophonous noise for anyone who could hear it, but the music was so loud and the high was so clean, all Ancap could think about was dancing, being a part of the crowd and the sounds.

Ancom let themselves be grinded on, arousingly rolling their hips as if they had forgotten they were trying not to present as female.

Nazi sat with the frat boys that had invaded their housewarming party and listened on to the vapid yapping. No amount of alcohol could make her ignore how incredibly _clueless_ they all were. Admittedly, it was difficult to have important conversations in all this noise, but she doubted a location change would help their tiny monkey brains come up with better words or points or anything of value at all.

They had looked decently attractive from afar, well trained, well kept, and like they knew how to take charge, but what was an alpha without any ideas? She had only noticed too late that they had a black friend in their group. She could’ve guessed from that that they were likely to be worthless hacks.

Still, she had already identified the most unhappy looking guy in the round – maybe he was unhappy about the right things – but every time she tried to talk to him, she was interrupted by his troglodyte friends. So she stared at the rest of the party.

The unhappiest person in the round was her.

She spotted her gross little mongrel roommate over by the music, crudely dancing with their host. They seemed to both be having the time of their lives, probably coked up and high, the filthy degenerates.

She _hated_ it here.

They were back upstairs. Ancom really was touchy when drunk; they had stuck to Ancap’s side like they were glued on the entire time, when they went to get drinks, talked to some others, and when they tripped more than walked into the elevator again.

Ancap didn’t mind at all.

“Let’s take another line, my high is coming off,” Ancom squeaked.

As they walked into the apartment, Ancap wrapped her arm around Ancom’s neck and purred into their ear that she wouldn’t be handing out freebies this time.

Of course, Ancom was confused, but Ancap took it as a good sign that they didn’t extract themselves from her tight embrace.

“Don’t be a dick,” they moaned, “I don’t have that kind of money, come on!”

“I’ll cut you a deal,” Ancap leered, “we can do a service exchange thing. You know, cut out the middle man. Money being the middle man. Because it’s a stand-in for services. You- you get it.”

Their expression made it very clear that they _didn’t_ get it, but Ancap didn’t have the patience anymore to explain what was going on with words, and instead pulled Ancom onto the bed with her, having the smaller person sit on her lap.

It took a few seconds, but Ancom caught on.

“I’m not a prostitute!” they flustered, leaning backwards and nearly falling off the bed if Ancap hadn’t caught them and pulled them on top of her again. Her hands felt hot wherever they touched on Ancom’s skin.

“That sounds awfully anti sexworker,” Ancap teased.

“I’m not anti sexwork! I just-, I, it’s-”

She lifted up a shushing finger. “ _Relax_ , honey.” That felt right to say. “This is just a consensual act between two adults, that just happens to include you getting access to that sweet, sweet cocaine you sold me way too cheaply. Maybe you’ll even learn something,” her voice was only a gentle murmur, drawing in the person on top of her. “What do you say?”

Ancom suddenly leaned forward and kissed Ancap, who almost fell back, but quickly regained her balance and grabbed the back of Ancom’s head.

She had had quite the number of make out sessions in her life, but Ancom seemed so much more excited, sweaty, nervous, agitated, it was like a high of its own. Ancom rolled their hips against her, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and Ancap was done for. Flipping them both around, she crouched over her new lover to get a good look of their flushed face as her greedy palms slowly traveled across their torso and towards the buttons of their pants.

“Do you like that?” she whispered close to Ancom’s ear as her hands trailed over their thigh.

“I- I don’t know.”

“What?” Ancap sat up.

“I- I- I’ve never done this before.” Now they looked more like a child than anything else.

“Seriously?” She felt herself get even more flushed at how innocently Ancom stared up at her, looking aroused and lost at the same time. “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” she leaned back down and flipped them again so that Ancom was on top of her, just to make sure they wouldn’t get scared and bolt.

It was exquisite. Ancom was extremely responsive, making whimpering noises at pretty much everything Ancap did, would sweetly try to bury their head in Ancap’s neck, which she would obviously respond to by stopping her ministrations; the whole point of this was to see Ancom’s face, contorted in pleasure, hear clearly every moan, every tiny response. She had not expected a virgin to be such a great lay.

She never even reached the inside of Ancom’s pants. She wanted to savor every moment she could, so she accidentally made them come long before she was actually finished. Not even Ancap had the heart to rouse the cute ball curled up against her, spent, exhausted and clinging to her like a life line. She merely kissed them to finish herself off, and even that seemed to be some kind of sensory overload for Ancom in that moment.

As they laid in bed, Ancom’s panting loud over the dull party noises coming from below, Ancap noticed that someone else had apparently been getting busy across the hallway. She mostly heard the grunting of some guy she couldn’t place, but whatever they were doing, it was rough and fast. And over very quickly.

 _Kinda like Ancom here, huh?_ her inner voice taunted.

When they had recovered at last, Ancom lifted their head and sheepishly smiled at her. “That was fun,” they said, panting.

“I promised nothing less. Though next time you might wanna last a little longer,” she teased.

Ancom flushed and immediately buried their head in the crook of her neck again.

She had thrown the guy out before he had had the chance to fall asleep on her bed. No way she was going to live with the headache of him waking up in her room, sobered up and asking questions about her decor. They had exchanged numbers, she’d try to figure out over a few dates whether he was worthy of her attention. He didn’t need to be perfect, just _fixable_. None of them had been so far. All inferior, brainwashed idiots, who would rather salvage their superfluous friendship with a _person of color_ , as they called it, than actually give a shit about their homeland and take some fucking action. They were all so complacent and it pissed her off to no end.

Maybe that’s why she never enjoyed herself. None of them were real men, real people with souls and minds worthy of her adoration. She could be submissive, but only to someone who deserved it.

It had been especially irritating to hear the degenerate squeaking and squealing from across the hallway, the noises echoing in her head, making it impossible to focus on the here and now.

That kind of disgusting behavior was exactly why she was trying to get rid of the stupid freak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine is very boring but at the same I only ever do nothing of value anyways so whatever.
> 
> As always, criticisms of all kinds welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

Ancap was used to getting up before any of her peers, especially on post-party mornings; she had actually taken care to slink out of her room to let an unhappily grousing Ancom sleep, and gone to the kitchen to check her stocks over some coffee.

So she was surprised to see someone else already fresh and ready to start the day. Nazi was busy in the kitchen fixing herself coffee and breakfast, not even paying her any heed. She was no longer wearing her girly dress, but covered head to toe in a dark blue uniform, finished with a uniform cap. Ancap thought she recognized the vintage logo on it.

“Morning,” she said. Nazi only nodded at her as Ancap made her own cup of coffee. “What's got you up so early?”

“Work.”

“Ah. This early? Where do you work?”

“At the train station.”

“Oh. Cool.” Ancap sipped her coffee. She was wearing her sunglasses so that the sun coming in through the windows wouldn’t hurt her eyes. “What do you do there?”

“Rudimentary track cleaning and checking on the appliances. Or whatever they send me to do.” Her words were rushed, like she was embarrassed to say them.

Ancap nodded. “So, someone got busy last night, huh?” she grinned and held out her fist for Nazi to bump it. She was ignored. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Chad. Or Brad. I can’t remember. I’m not good with these generic names.”

“You gonna call him back?”

“Do you maybe also want a detailed report on what I ate yesterday? Shut up, for God’s sake,” Nazi snapped, grabbing her duffel bag and marching out the door.

The train station near campus was absolutely pathetic. It barely even counted as such; the train stopped there only once or twice a day, merely passing through to other, more important destinations the few other times its noisy rumble graced the fake town erected around her college.

Alas, Nazi was glad she had a job at all, and doing the occasional checking in on everything was as good of a part-time job as having to stand at the local supermarket’s register.

She set down the tools she had haphazardly thrown into the bag she had carried her luggage in yesterday and stamped her time card right as the minute hand turned to eight.

The birds chirped in the background and the clear morning light made her feel a little less light headed. After her introduction to her duties last week, she hadn’t been overly happy with the position, but she could get used to the solitude and the well-fitting uniform.

The door to her little booth was thrown open.

In waltzed a confused looking girl with unbrushed brunette hair and wearing a uniform like hers, but without any of the authority. Probably because it was buttoned the wrong way.

“Oh. Hi!” the girl said, not stretching out her hand. Nazi wasn’t about to do so, either. “Do you also work here?”

Nazi nodded slowly. She clenched her teeth.

“Cool, cool. Awesome station, right? It’s pretty old, I think it was built in the, like, 40’s or something,” she prattled.

Nazi whispered a low _I doubt that_ to herself, but didn’t respond properly.

No solitude after all.

The bed was cold. They didn’t like that at all. Cold, and empty. Wait, they didn’t even have a bed, right? They had an empty room with only their bags on the floor. Because they got kicked out of their last flat. Right.

Ancom forced their eyes open.

The room was foreign, and cluttered with a disorganized mess of stuff they couldn’t place. None of it seemed like something they’d use.

It was cold between their legs. It was cold because it was damp.

They sat up violently, causing their head to burst into a horrible headache. The events of the previous day and night crashed in on them in a random order, the impressions trying to outshine each other until only the shit eating grin of a blonde fascist and an equally smarmy, but more benevolent expression on Ancap’s face remained.

Before they could process everything properly, the door was thrown open and Ancap strode in, looking as fresh as she always did when they met in the park.

“Ah, you’re awake! Great. I need my room, so if you’d be so kind as to leave, that would be lovely,” Ancap hardly even looked at them.

Barely aware of what they were doing, Ancom wobbled to their room, turning on the light bulb.

The steadily rising feeling of hurt peaked when they examined their new domain. It was really only empty parquet and white walls with a bunch of clothes on the floor.

They were so tired; throwing another skeptical look around, they joylessly kicked their half-full duffel bag into a corner, pushing the clothes on the floor close to it and began trying to make themselves comfortable on the uneven heap.

It must’ve worked at least a little bit, as Ancom jolted awake when someone knocked on their door. Whoever it was didn’t wait for a response, opening it and letting pesky sunlight in. Ancom groaned.

“What is going on?” Commie asked with scrunched brows when she leaned into the room.

Ancom only groaned some more.

“Where is your bed? What is this room?” She stepped inside, scanning first the walls and then Ancom’s pile of stuff on the floor.

“I don’t have one,” they mumbled into the bag, trying to shield their eyes.

“What do you mean, you don’t have one? Do you sleep on the floor?” Commie stepped towards them, crouching down.

“Clearly,” they grumbled.

Commie didn’t make a move to leave. Ancom was still so terribly tired; they wracked their empty head for something to say or do that would make their roommate finally let them go back to sleep.

“I didn’t know the room wouldn’t be furnished. I don’t own any furniture. That’s why, okay?” they snapped, barely managing to squint from behind their heavy eyelids.

Commie looked far too neutral, and still intent on staying. Ancom could feel her eyes going over their body, to their one bare foot, and ending on the knocked over bong they had been trying to forget.

“Quit looking at me like that. This is better than being homeless,” they whined and it sounded so pathetic that they immediately wanted to take it back.

Commie muttered something in Russian and got up, marching out of the room without closing the door. Ancom didn’t have the energy to yell after her to close it.

Ancap was deep into reading a transactional contract that her mind just wouldn’t translate into proper English when her door was nearly kicked in behind her.

“Why is one of our roommates sleeping on the floor?”

“I don’t know,” Ancap responded irritatedly.

“Why is it the only room without furniture?”

“Because it just didn’t have any.” When would the stupid bitch leave? Ancap was so close to finishing her reading exercise and she wanted nothing less than to lose the loose grasp on the material she had built up.

“You can’t rent out college rooms without furniture,” Commie insisted.

“I can do whatever I please,” she shot back, still not turning around.

Uh oh. Bad idea. She felt her head being violently pressed down into her desk and onto her precious papers by the strong, surprisingly callous grip of her roommate.

“You own the house. It’s your responsibility to keep the living conditions decent,” Commie hissed into her ear. “You get them a mattress, at least.” She let go.

Ancap sat back up, rubbing her neck. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll report you for renting out rooms without windows. That’s against regulations.”

Ancap quickly weighed her options. She could throw Commie out just for harassing her, but then who’d rent the room? She’d get her for that little aggression some other day. She didn’t want to risk having to get rid of Ancom; she really wanted that stipend money.

“I’ll buy them their stupid mattress. But I don’t appreciate being threatened in my own house.”

Commie didn’t even respond to that. “I made breakfast if you want some,” she said instead and left to the kitchen.

Ancap didn’t need breakfast. She needed something to help her concentrate. Spending some more fruitless effort on the contract, she was appalled when it was suddenly two hours later and she heard something shatter in the next room.

She looked at her wristwatch; going through the short list of shops in the pathetic excuse of a town erected around campus and their opening hours, she figured she still had time to go buy that stupid mattress today and get it over with if she left now.

Knocking on Ancom’s door, she went through her options; maybe she could make Ancom pay after all? Commie didn’t have to know.

No answer from inside.

“Ancom, are you up?” she called through the door.

Muffled cursing and clumsy steps, then Ancom opened the door, looking absolutely terrible. Behind them, broken glass lay all over the floor and they were carefully cradling some of the shards in their left hand.

“You busy?”

“I broke my bong.”

Ancap peered over their shoulder. “Those things _are_ pretty fragile. Wanna go buy a mattress for you?”

Ancom blinked a handful of times, clearly caught off guard. “I- uh. I think I need to clean this up first. And roll a joint.”

“You can do that later. The furniture store closes otherwise.” She threw a pointed look at the weird nest of clothes in the corner. “I’m assuming you’d like something more comfy for the night. Unless you wanna share my bed again,” she added, grinning.

Ancom rubbed their temple and looked down. Their hair looked soft and silky even though the grime of the party still stuck to it. Ancap reached out, stroking their head and pulling them against her, guiding them towards the kitchen.

“I’ll cut you a deal. I help you clean your room so that we’re even about yesterday, and then we go get your mattress.”

“What do those cost?” they mumbled as they tangled their fingers in the fabric of Ancap’s suit jacket. “I think I need food more than a mattress,” they trailed off, sounding weepy.

Ancap dissolved their embrace to grab shovel and pan from behind the kitchen counter, handing it to her friend. “It’s on me,” she said through grit teeth, trying to ignore the puppy stare she earned in return. “But you can give me something against that pesky fatigue in exchange. You know, a favor for a favor?”

Ancom eagerly nodded. Apparently they just didn’t like doing things for money. Ancap could adapt; a deal was a deal, with money or without.

They cleaned the floor of all shards, with mostly Ancom crawling around on the floor and Ancap sitting on their surprisingly comfy pile and pointing out bits that they’d missed.

“Admit it, you need a new one of those more than food,” she teased when they left the building, lifting up the plastic bag filled with broken glass before dumping it into the trash. She was lightly hit on the arm in retaliation.

They took Ancap’s car to the furniture store; she always looked slightly out of place in the ancient thing with her fancy suits, but Ancom fit right in in their oversized sweater and neon pink beanie.

They looked deeply uncomfortable in the store itself, though; there were surprisingly many people there, presumably many students buying last touches for their new homes. Ancom immediately clung to Ancap’s arm, who, suddenly becoming grumbly over her encounter with Commie now that the time to spend money on charity came close, found it more annoying than endearing.

“What is it now?” she sighed.

“The lights are really bright...and there’s so many people here.”

“That’s why I always wear sunglasses.”

That worked in shutting Ancom up. Their grating voice wasn’t good for Ancap’s headache; she should’ve brought some pills with her before coming here.

Ancap headed straight to the cheapest beddings she could find; she’d be damned if she spent any more on this than absolutely necessary.

Ancom only pouted slightly at the choice, but seemed to have gotten the message that Ancap wasn’t in the mood for arguments; Ancap’s smile for the cashier was distorted as she handed over one of her credit cards. They carried the mattress back to her car and drove to the apartment where they unceremoniously dumped the thing on the floor. Ancap bid them, still surly, goodbye, but Ancom took her sleeve and turned her around. Before Ancap could react, Ancom was on their tiptoes, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

She guessed it was payment for the effort.

Nazi’s hand ran down to feel the comforting hard edges of her pistol. Knowing that she had it was immensely reassuring; it was there, just in reach, hidden under her uniform, and if she wanted to, she _could_ take a life. Just like that.

She had been clinging to the fantasy of just pulling it out and seeing horror explode on her coworker’s face as she’d realize that her incessant babbling would be the cause of her death. Click, pull the trigger, and then – silence. Then Nazi would be alone again.

But the scraggly fool sitting next to her in the booth was none the wiser, yammering on and on about nothing at all. What an unfulfilling life that must be, being stuck talking about things of absolutely zero weight, stuck in a world of impotence due to one’s own blindness.

Worst of all, the poor girl didn’t even live here because she went to college. This was just her home. Her parents owned some shop or other as she had elaborated in needless detail, and this was just her first job, not a side gig to make college life affordable. How depressing. She was never getting out of this decrepit town.

Not that she was fit for anywhere else. Sure, they were unsupervised, but the way she put her legs on the counter just reeked of disrespect. Nazi had icily commanded her to put them back down. She had abided immediately, awkwardly looking at her feet for a few gracious moments of silence, but then just continued her awful yapping as if nothing had ever happened.

Nazi was glad when she finally made her way back to her flat; as she entered the hallway to her room, she walked past clumsy shuffling in the windowless room Ancap had tried to sell her when she had looked at the apartment; Ancap and the degenerate were doing something with a mattress.

She couldn’t care less. Maybe it meant that the next time, they’d fuck in that room, a little further away from hers. She could do without the noise.

She had just made herself comfortable in her room and gotten into more feminine clothes when Commie knocked on her door. She had to jump up and stand against it, seeing that Commie apparently hadn’t heard of the concept of privacy and simply wanted to march in.

“I made dinner. It is your turn to clean.”

“My turn to clean?” She wended out the door, closing it behind her.

“Yes. I made a list who has cleaning duty when.”

“I didn’t agree to that!” she crossed her arms.

“It only makes sense to do it like this,” Commie was unimpressed, handing her a sponge and dishcloth and walking away.

Nazi bristled, but marched over to the kitchen anyways, though not without a bit of angry stomping. She saw the list, hand drawn and color-coded, on the open kitchen door; sneering at it a last time, she did what she was told, making work on the two pots and knives Commie had used. Dinner stood on the table in a covered bowl; it smelled good, she hated to admit. Taking a break in between her scrubbing, she opened the lid. Doughy balls of some kind. She put the lid back on and finished her task.

Just when she was done, Commie came up next to her, patting her on her back as if to congratulate her on her good work. She shuddered and thought of the gun in her room; she hated being touched.

The others joined them for dinner; they sat in the same seats as yesterday, Ancom taking theirs opposite of Nazi without looking her in the eyes, Commie to her left, and Ancap to her right.

Ancom pushed around the balls again after it was revealed that they were filled with meat.

Nazi had an idea.

“So, I take it you’re vegan?” she asked, looking pointedly at the _girl_ sitting in front of her. They were hiding it more today, what with their shape disappearing in their huge sweater with the anarchist A on it, but she knew. And they knew it, too.

“I care for animal rights, yeah. I don’t want to kill them for my pleasure, that’s wrong.”

Oh, spicy take. She hadn’t expected them to be so forward about it.

“Well, you can’t really expect us to eat vegan for you, I hope you know that. But you can cook your separate meals, that way we create less waste.”

Divide and conquer, right?

“Though vegan alternatives _are_ pretty expensive,” she continued, sensually taking a bite out of one of the balls; she could really get used to Commie cooking for them. It was delightful to see the anxiety spread over Ancom’s face as they squirmed in their seat; of course the stupid degenerate didn’t have any money.

“I’d rather not eat than feast on the death of the animals being abused,” they shot back suddenly. The other two seemed startled, but Nazi kept her cool.

“We can’t all do that though, can we? There are plenty of people who cannot afford your food, and we can’t have them starve, right?”

“If we all switch to alternatives, the market will produce more of them and will make them cheaper,” Ancom nervously glanced at Ancap, who was decidedly uninterested in the topic at hand, instead staring at her phone screen.

“But you can’t really ask that of the underclass of the world, can you? I’d wager taking care of the humans being abused by the system is more important than the animals. Or not?”

“I agree,” Commie nodded before Ancom could respond. Nazi’s plan was going much better than expected.

“What?” Ancom spat.

“You can eat whatever you want, but its very much like the bourgeoisie to ask for a worker’s sacrifice for something only they care about.”

“We should _all_ care about the environment! And systems that perpetuate violence, even if ‘only’ against animals, always inevitably turn against everyone working within them!” Ancom retorted indignantly.

“It is illusory to believe that the market can fix such systems, you too must be able to see that. To ask this of the impoverished is ridiculous; the state needs to take control of these issues.” Commie sounded somewhat calm, but her pejorative glare was anything but.

It was more than satisfying to see the bunch start bickering among each other. Silly of them to play their hands so openly.

Maybe she could rile up the other two against Ancom. Make it hard to eat, to sleep, to do anything at all.

Make them move out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm not actually very good at rhetorics irl, so putting it in anything is always kinda hit or miss, but I tried
> 
> But whoop first appearance of Nazbol!


	4. Chapter 4

Ancom lay curled up on their mattress, staring at the wall opposite them. The room’s bland white paint job was spalling in some corners, though it was barely visible in the terrible light. They had refrained from using any of their leftover weed; the dinner fight hadn’t ended in tears, but not exactly amicably either, and that might result in a bad high. They had stormed off eventually, head swimming from hunger, exhaustion, and first symptoms of withdrawal. Oh, how they _wished_ they might one day see the stupid fascist at a rally. They would beat the shit out of her, take their bat and smash her, and smash the other two while they were at it.

Their stomach grumbled. They felt ill. The last thing they ate was raw celery from the fridge and party snacks.

Ancom curled further in on themselves. They had thought Ancap’s generous offer would be indicative of their living conditions, but so far, Ancom had never felt quite as threatened. They felt everything about them was under attack, even though they were so clearly and obviously in the _right_.

They reached out to their bag and pulled out their trusty bat, spooning it as if that would protect them; it was cold and hard, like the place they had found themselves in.

At least they weren’t homeless, right?

The door creaked open. Commie stepped in, balancing a plate on her hand as she snuck over, setting it down next to Ancom’s head. Ancom just glared at her from underneath their hoodie.

“It’s vegan.”

Ancom eyed it suspiciously. After a few moments, they sat up, stirring the contents of the plate around with the fork Commie had supplied.

“There’s egg in this.”

Commie looked confused.

Ancom sighed and sat up fully. _What even_ _i_ _s pride when you’re hungry?_ They could try to eat around the egg.

Commie stayed crouched down besides them. She always looked like she came straight out of a spy movie; with her ribbed shirts and penchant for dark red and black, she looked ready to sneak around and get into action at a moment’s notice. Somehow, it looked like stylish student wear at the same time.

Ancom finished their food in record time, of course leaving anything that looked even remotely like egg on the plate, and handed it back.

“Thanks,” they mumbled and Commie nodded.

“Everyone deserves to eat.”

Ancom wasn’t so sure about that.

The tall woman got back up and left the room, reminding them that they had clean up duty the next day. Ancom only hummed in response, then flopped back on the bed. They felt better with a full stomach; maybe they could even be tempted to take some DMT to brighten up their dull environment.

Knocking at their door, left open a sliver by Commie. Ancap stood in the doorway.

“Taking alms now?” she asked testily, arms crossed. She unfolded them again when Ancom didn’t answer, stepping further into the room. “I need some stuff. What you got for me?” She sounded much more businesslike now.

A little unsure of what was happening, Ancom hesitantly rummaged through their backpack, scavenging for the last of their drugs.

“I got some DMT, weed, I think this might be cocaine, and,” they whistled appreciatively, “one last x.”

“I’ll take the probably-coke,” Ancap marched over, demandingly holding out her hand. Ancom handed the mystery bag over, blushing when Ancap fumbled a fifty out of her pocket and threw more than handed it to them. “Fair price. This gets me high like twice or something,” she frowned at the bag, squinting at the small amount of powder in it. “You might want to check your schedule for tomorrow by the way.”

She left as abruptly as she came, roughly closing the door behind her. Whatever her fucking problem was. All of Ancom’s roommates were behaving very strangely, and they didn’t enjoy any of it. Besides maybe Commie bringing them food; that had been a really nice gesture. They guessed so was buying a mattress for them.

Ancom forewent the DMT and instead pulled out their phone. The college app had automatically generated their schedule, complete with location plans and everything.

Scrolling through their courses they remembered why they never actually went to college in the first place. Everything was so theoretical and _boring_. The courses all sounded like pointless yammering on things they already had an opinion on. And they started at ten in the morning. That had to count as a human rights violation.

A pang in their chest when they picked up the fifty next to them. They would’ve wanted Ancap to stay. Sit on the bed with them, maybe kiss. Just thinking about it made their head swim.

They put their phone down and reached for the DMT after all.

_Thwump thwump thwump._

At first, it had started with just rhythmic noise. Maybe someone was moving around furniture in the middle of the night and would be done soon. But the noise became louder, a melody chimed in, and when the off key synths started, Nazi had enough.

Struggling out of her hopelessly tangled bedsheets, she stomped out the door, running into Commie already standing in the hallway.

“What the fuck is this?” she spat.

Commie looked just as pissed. “Someone is playing music in another apartment. It’s none of us,” she said, turning around to head out of their flat.

Nazi followed suit. In the corridor they listened to the origin of the noise; it came from the apartment right next to them. Of course it did. Exchanging a look, they both nodded and Commie gave the door a couple of hard knocks. No response. She tried again. Nazi became impatient and knocked herself, more erratically. Nothing.

“Screw this,” Commie said, turning the handle – it was unlocked.

The flat was dark, and the layout seemingly similar to theirs. The only thing illuminating the central hallway were several blinking LED lights framing one of the doors. With the main door open, the proper melody of the music was more audible, but there was nothing beautiful about it – it was grating and stuttery and so goddamn _loud_.

They hesitated for a short moment. The apartment seemed creepy, like the den of something infernal. A certain unstable aura pervaded it, and it was enough to hold them back, even if just for a few seconds.

“Why is no one else bothered by this?” Nazi snorted, glaring up at Commie as if the situation was her fault.

“Half of the apartments on this floor are empty,” Commie explained, taking the first step inside the flat.

They inched through the door and down the corridor. All the doors were closed and an implacable smell surrounded them. The cacophonous noise came from the door with the LEDs; not bothering to knock this time around, Commie went for the handle directly, cursing when it turned out to be locked.

“God _damn_ it!” Nazi shouted, kicking the door. It didn’t budge. While she was still busy trying to melt the door with her glare, Commie had tried to get into the other rooms; one was actually open.

So _that_ was the weird smell.

In the room, barely furnished, sat a woman on the floor, half naked, and made a fire. The fire was small and seemed perfectly contained, but the materials that had been used for burning were clearly not meant for that purpose.

The two of them took a moment to regain their composure as they were locked into a stare duel with the completely unfazed woman on the floor.

“Could you tell your shitty roommate to turn down their fucking music?” Nazi yelled to make sure she was understood over the noise. It had been very loud from where she had been trying to sleep, but how anyone could even pretend to sleep in this apartment was a mystery to her.

The woman on the floor didn’t respond. She seemed to want to go back to whatever she had been doing with the fire.

“Can you hear me? Tell your friend to turn it down!” Nazi tried again. When she still didn’t receive an answer, she went back to the LEDs. She’d kick in the door if she had to. Commie held her back for a second, gesturing the door they had just opened to the half naked woman’s room. Someone had removed the latch mechanism from it. They shared a look.

“What is wrong with these people?” Nazi muttered as she returned to her original plan. One kick to the door, and her foot hurt, but at least it had sounded big and intimidating. Commie copied her, and Nazi had to stifle her pout over how much louder and more impressive Commie’s kick was.

It wasn’t enough for the door though; it must have been reinforced. Was whoever was behind it prepared for this?

“For the love of god, Commie,” Nazi pinched the bridge of her nose, “if we don’t do something about this noise _right now_ I’m going to shoot someone.”

She didn’t see the short raised brows, but Commie turned on her heels and walked back to their apartment, where she rapped loudly on Ancap’s door. It seemed they had caught her asleep, since she took a few seconds to get to the door and looked even more disheveled than usual.

“What?” she groaned.

“Give us the keys to the apartment rooms next door.”

“What? No.”

“Give them to us or we’ll call the police to make a noise complaint,” Commie threatened.

Ancap rolled her head and rubbed her face before speaking. “Is this about the music?”

“Of course this is about the music!” Nazi cut in. “How can you sleep with all of that going on?”

“I’m not a whiny baby.” She raised her hands placatingly when she was met with Commie’s angry glare. “Relax, relax. I’ll take care of it.”

The trio went back to the source of the music; surprisingly, Ancap didn’t steer towards the room with the lights, but instead to one of the locked doors, though not without throwing a skeptical glance inside the room with the fire.

Nazi’s and Commie’s kicks had been impressive, but Ancap’s knocks were much louder over the bass heavy music with how high pitched they were.

Nazi looked at Commie with scrunched brows, only to be met with a similar expression in response.

The door actually opened, with a sleepy looking brunette creeping out from behind it, looking rather overly similar to Ancap.

“Morning, cuz.”

“Yeah, you too,” Ancap answered hurriedly, “could your majesty be lowered to tell your subjects to keep the volume down?” She seemed to struggle with her word choice. The situation was getting stranger by the minute; all Nazi really wanted was to go sleep.

A long, drawn out hum; it was surprising it was even audible over the music, still going strong with ever increasingly arrhythmic beats. “What do I get for it?”

“All of our lifelong adoration.”

Neither Nazi nor Commie liked the way that sounded, but the seething hatred for the asocial element behind that illuminated door was greater than their desire to protest.

“Okay.”

They could only watch as the brunette pulled a shabby cardboard box out from under the bed and fished what looked like lockpicking utensils out of it, making quick work of the last barrier between them and the demon.

The door, as it turned out actually reinforced with some metal, leaned open. Behind it sat a tiny girl, apparently absorbed in making live music in the middle of the night; there were several keyboards of different sizes and layouts haphazardly strewn around her strange desk setup, and every other empty spot was crowded with cables, speakers and what could only be described as musical junk.

The brunette walked up to her, laid a hand on her shoulder and said something none of them could hear. The small girl nodded and finally, wonderfully, turned down the volume of her music.

Nazi sighed in relief when her ears were finally free of the terrible noise that had assaulted them prior.

The brunette slinked away again and closed the door before either of them could say thank you; they were close to falling into each other’s arms to celebrate a job well done.

Ancap bid the girl goodbye and led them back out.

“I thought I was gonna go insane from the noise,” Nazi admitted when she and Commie were left alone in their hallway, Ancap having already disappeared in her room.

“Agreed.” Commie combed her fingers through her long brown hair. It looked silky.

“But hey, look how we handled it, huh?” Nazi felt amicable, and just a little tipsy from exhaustion.

Commie seemed unsure at first but eventually nodded. “You seem good at getting things done. I respect that.”

Nazi couldn’t help but blush. That was probably the first nice thing she heard since she moved here.

“Alright. Good night, comrade.”

“Good night.”

The blaring of her alarm was so grating that Nazi nearly threw it out of the window, but punctuality was not something she would ever be willing to compromise on.

She turned the beeping off; at least it wasn’t as overpowering as the music from the night. She usually liked hearing her alarm, but her sleeplessness made it difficult to look forward to the new day.

She jumped out of bed and went through her morning routine, then grabbed her favorite lace dress. She was startled when she brought it close to herself; it was rank and disgusting, and some patches even felt crusty; terrible souvenirs from the last party. She knew she shouldn’t have worn it.

She fisted the material as if disappointedly staring at it would make it clean.

Sighing in frustration, she tossed it in a corner and instead picked up her uniform shirt and a skirt. That would have to do for now.

It wasn’t an ideal start to her first day at college, but that would pose no problem, no. She walked out of the building with her head held high, marching the short distance to her building with the confidence of someone who knew why they got up in the morning.

The introductory classes were over in a breeze, and she found herself in her first smaller class, with only one or two dozen people sharing the room with her. The graduate student at the front presented the history and different forms of discussions to them; a required soft skill class for political science. She diligently took notes, even if she believed herself to be naturally gifted at holding her own in a debate; she had won many in the past, even if her enemies always construed her victories as failures, just because they couldn’t handle the simple truth that she was _right_.

The grad student began droning on some examples, and she only paid half attention to him; fatigue from her sleep deprivation was making it hard to concentrate. She would’ve much rather leaned her face in her palm and dozed off, but forced herself to at least keep her eyes open.

Her ears perked back up when a student further towards the front asked a rhetoric question to urge the grad student to illustrate a point further. Suddenly, she wished she had been listening. The student was talking about immigration, and the vague back and forth between him and the grad student got more infuriating by the second. They mildly talked on the topic, with qualifiers here and subjunctives there, refusing to acknowledge the possibility of their example being correct.

She had to shut up. Had to shut up. It was day one. Try. At least try.

But maybe it was better to spread the seed of doubt in her peers; if she only did it subtly enough-

When the grad student tried to dismiss the question as something no one would ever argue in real life, she didn’t really have a choice anymore.

“Why _wouldn’t_ people argue for limited immigration?” she asked venomously.

The grad student looked a little perplex at her sudden interjection.

 _So he’s weak_.

She bit down the urge to say something, anything at all, to do with other races. That was not the way into people’s minds. “Isn’t it silly to pretend points made in real life are irrelevant in a class for learning about how to debate?”

The grad student babbled something about assumptions he made based on the usual compositions of his classes, but Nazi barely heard him. She was sure he was about to apologize for the assumption. What a pathetic pushover.

She interrupted him before he had the chance to get to his apology, making sure to wait for a short speaking pause on his part to do so. “I'd say it’s pretty inappropriate to inadvertently silence certain opinions in your debate class by rendering them invisible through your speech.” Ancom had said something similar to that during the fight the day prior. She could see how the wording itself made the grad student shrink further; he was used to it being important, regardless of whether it really was. Filthy liberals, cucked and domineered by the leftists constantly sitting on their shoulders and whispering destructive nonsense into their ears until they believed it. Two could play that game. “Debates are still open on the topic. There is, for example, an undeniable connection between race and IQ, and it is our duty as political scientists to talk about it.”

Ooh. Too far. A disapproving murmur went through the small auditorium the moment she said IQ, and the grad student regained his senses, shutting down the discussion. Her blood boiled, but she only gripped her pen tighter, jaw set and stare unwavering. Her mouth stayed closed.

It was a small sacrifice. At least one or two other students just had seeds planted in them, seeds of understanding that the world around them was rigged and trying to hide things from them.

It was the first day of classes. No one would remember her; if she timed it right she could do this whenever possible, spread more seeds, and eventually her classmates would do it for her and she’d disappear in their company. It was the small version of real life politics.

After classes, she tried to be inconspicuous, but clearly her rhetorics had worked much better than she thought. A light blonde with long, curly hair approached her from behind, immediately moving in to touch her shoulder. Nazi wound out from under the cold hand, skipping a step back.

“Hi,” the girl said.

“Hello,” Nazi kept walking. She trailed after her.

“I like what you said back there.”

Nazi hesitated for a moment. Was this a ruse? “Thanks.”

“I really admire that. Speaking your mind even if it’s unpopular.”

The girl moved closer to her again, and Nazi took another step to the side, evading her touch. “Uh huh.”

“Wanna study together sometime?”

“Uhm,” Nazi furrowed her brows. Maybe she was an ally, maybe it was a ruse, or maybe she was just creepy and Nazi didn’t really want to associate with her.

“Just think about it,” the girl grinned widely, sharp teeth glaring at her in the waning sunlight, and she handed Nazi a scrap paper with a phone number scribbled down on it.

“Thanks.” She wanted to dump it in the nearest trashcan. But that would be really rude. “I’m gonna head home now.”

“Okay. Me too.”

She kept walking next to Nazi.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t follow me.”

“I’m not following you.”

Nazi sighed and reached to feel her pistol, neatly tucked away in her backpack. It got her blood pressure down. Why did clingy freaks always choose her to cling to?

It took more self control than Nazi knew she had to not take a curve down into a field, have the creepy girl follow her, and then turn around and shoot her. Yes. She’d look really surprised, wouldn’t she.

“Okay, seriously,” Nazi swiveled around violently when they had reached the door to her apartment building, “get the fuck lost, freak.”

The girl flinched away and blushed. “I- but I live here.”

Nazi just sighed. “Sure you do.”

They entered the elevator together, drove to the same floor together; Nazi had managed to fiddle her pistol out of her bag without the girl noticing. If she did, she didn't mention it, at least.

When the doors opened, she quickly darted out, straight ahead to the flat the noise had come from the night before. Shyly saying 'bye' and doing a small curtsy, she disappeared in the apartment, leaving Nazi to stare after her in the hallway, gun held behind her back.

Of course she lived in that flat. Where else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter, but the whole idea of the whackies being the gang's creepy neighbors spawned this stupid thing in the first place.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

Ancap was stressed out. Some of her prospective tenants had flaked out. She had a clause to get something out of them, but not immediately and not enough. She put out the last cigarette of the pack she had taken to in lieu of coke on her desk, watching as the stump crumbled into ash. Just like her finances.

Maybe she bit off too much of the cake. Her family already owned the house, why did she have to take it over? No one was going to do her any favors either after they had figured out she had played them out of their shares.

 _No. This is fine. You can do it, you can figure it out_. One good day in her investments and she’d be back on top. She just needed more time.

When someone meekly knocked on her door, she couldn’t help but snap. “What?”

The door didn’t open.

“What is it?” she spat impatiently.

Slowly, the hinges creaked and it hurt her ears, senses heightened from the stress. Ancom leaned in.

“Are you okay?”

Ancap sighed, rubbing her temples. _Not now, for god’s sake_. She was still secretly pissed about letting herself get intimidated into handing out charity by Commie.

“What do you want?” she tried to keep her voice calm, but behind her eyes, numbers were flashing and graphs of crashing stocks loomed.

Ancom tiptoed into the room, very gently closing the door. They awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

“I thought maybe we could,” they trailed off, eyes flitting towards the bed.

Ancap exhaled derisively. “This time, you’d have to pay _me_.”

Ancom flinched.

“Was it that awful?”

Ancap squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten in her head.

“I don’t have the time or the energy right now to take care of you.”

Ancom flinched again. Apparently her tone was still too sharp.

She turned back to her papers. Ancom came up behind her, looking over her shoulders.

“I have a lot of costs that I can’t pay. Mostly taxes,” she explained more to the shut blinds in front of her than Ancom.

“Just don’t pay then. Right?”

Ancap squinted up at them; their dark eyes innocently looked down at her, as if what they’d said was the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you have some coke?” she asked instead of replying. Her brain was still processing the brazenly stupid statement.

Ancom shook their head. “Just DMT and x. And some more weed.”

“Keep that for selling, nobody wants your weird hardcore shit,” Ancap advised. “But bring me some pills. Then we can fuck.”

Ancom nodded and hurried to do as they were told. Maybe the idea wasn’t so stupid at all. It wasn’t really stealing, it was evading a robbery.

Ancom came back, handing Ancap a pill. She put it on her tongue, gesturing for Ancom to come sit on her lap and kissed them. Their tongues struggled over the pill, but just when she was sure Ancom thought they had won, she swiped it back and swallowed. Cute of them to think she’d give them back her due payment.

Ancom wasn’t sure whether to be upset Ancap left them hanging after the kiss, or to be extremely grateful when the latter nuzzled their neck and sucked and bit down to their collarbone. They had a hard time keeping their balance on their unstable perch on Ancap’s bony legs, worsened by the heady feeling of Ancap pulling their hips closer. No wonder drugs and this was all their friends ever did; sex was much better than drugs alone.

They gasped when Ancap’s hand slipped between their legs, gripping her shoulders tightly.

“You’re such a pillow princess,” Ancap chuckled, already sounding like she was a little lost in the high.

Ancom frowned, forcing themselves to look down at Ancap, biting their lip when Ancap only reacted by increasing the pressure.

Letting themselves be goaded, Ancom fumbled around with Ancap’s half undone tie, opening it properly and using it to pull her closer to them; Ancap angled her head back just enough so they didn’t kiss.

“You can sell it as a sub kink though. Then it’s suddenly acceptable. Pro tip for the future,” she winked, squeezing their thigh.

Ancom came much too quickly again, this time being allowed to bury their face in the crook of Ancap’s neck. The rush of the release was absolutely tainted by how embarrassed they felt after the taunts. It wasn’t their fault. They were new at this. They’d learn, surely. Who the hell was Ancap to shame them?

They felt like crying after, taking several shuddering breaths as they still leaned their forehead on Ancap’s shoulder.

“Yo, you still awake?” Ancap asked after a while.

Ancom swallowed thickly. “Do you even like me?”

_Don’t ask that._

“Sure.” It sounded like a shrug.

Ancom furrowed their brows at Ancap, looking more confused than anything else.

They searched her face for something. They didn’t even know what.

They didn’t find it. Distraught, they ran out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Nazi sat in her room, drowning out the godless sounds from across the hallway with the whirring of her sowing machine. She’d be damned if she bought cheap inferior garbage made by barely sentient deplorables when she could make high quality garments herself. It was a good skill to have for a future wife and mother anyways. And she really, really liked doing it.

“Fuck,” she cursed when a slamming door caused her to trip up her thread. “Damn it,” she mumbled, fumbling the fabric out of the machine to fix the error; she had to admit, she was making things more difficult for herself by doing this in a completely darkened room with only the desk lamp illuminating her task, but she didn’t want people to look into her room through the window. Somebody might snap a picture.

Getting thirsty, she tapped over to the kitchen, throwing another glance at the cleaning schedule.

_Crap._

She took her glass of water and walked over to Commie’s room.

The brunette was hunched over some papers; she was probably the only one of them who ever saw sunlight in her room. Ancap always shut her blinds because the sun hurt her drug-weakened eyes, Nazi was paranoid, and Ancom didn’t have windows to begin with.

“Change the schedule so I don’t have duty on the weekends,” she ordered.

“Why?” Commie turned around.

“I have work on the weekends.” She already saw Commie start to ask what, why, and whatever else. Everyone here was so nosy. “At the train station. Some of us aren’t just useless students or leeches on their people,” she added. She wasn’t even sure which of the statements applied to which of her roommates. All to all, probably.

Commie smirked. “You’re the one who studies political science. I’ll one day help construct the trains you are servicing.”

How the hell did she know about her work? “At least I’m financing myself.”

Commie shrugged. “My family supports me, because we work together. We agreed this is the most productive thing I could do, so we all act in concert to get it done. I don’t see the problem with that.”

“I don’t like being a leech on my family.” Her tone wavered. She hadn’t really had a choice. “Just change the goddamn schedule.”

By the time dinner rolled around, the music from the next door apartment had started up again. It was a little quieter than last night, but still very audible in the kitchen where they had all congregated.

Ancom pushed around their food again. This time the meat wasn’t directly incorporated into it, so they had just taken more of the potatoes and veggies instead. They were less hungry than wanting for something to give them a kick.

“Dear lord, does she ever stop with that noise?” Nazi complained as she stabbed her pork chop.

“Who?” Ancom asked, more out of reflex than curiosity. They hadn’t even noticed the music before. It was quiet next to the constant thrum in their head.

They were glad Commie answered instead of having to look at Nazi. “One of our neighbors played club music very loudly last night,” she explained.

“Ah.”

“How did you not hear that?” Nazi looked at them disbelievingly.

They shrugged. “I’m not sensitive.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Nazi rolled her eyes. “But seriously, what is _up_ with that freak? What’s up with that whole flat?”

“I’m still concerned about the fire hazard.”

“I’m more worried about that lock picking set. I don’t want my shit stolen.”

Were the two of them friends all of a sudden? Ancom followed their conversation, complaining about their apparently very weird neighbors with increasing concern. They had kind of assumed Commie was on their side at least a little bit.

“Ancap, why do you actually let a potential _thief_ stay in your house?” Nazi addressed the brunette, completely absorbed in looking at her phone screen.

Ancap shook her head at her phone, then put it into her pocket. “Huh? Oh, Anarcho-monarchy is my cousin. Didn’t want to piss my family off that much.”

“You just want somebody around that can break into our rooms just in case,” Nazi accused her. Ancap only rolled her eyes.

“Stealing isn’t exactly my style. I trade. But yes, that _is_ a better reason to keep my cousin around than meaningless family ties.”

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d give a shit about something like family at all,” the blonde went back to her meal.

“I don’t. That’s why they don’t live here for free,” Ancap smirked for a moment, but a glance at her phone screen turned her expression back into a frown.

“I actually met the fourth roommate today,” Nazi spoke to Commie again, “I thought she was following me home, but turns out she lives with those other weirdos.”

“What was she like?”

Nazi leaned back in her seat. “Touchy. And a bit creepy. She had strong guy-following-you-through-the-parking-garage vibes, even though she was cute and it was during the day.”

“Cute?” Commie raised her brow.

Nazi waved her off. “Just, objectively nice looking. Blonde, blue eyed, slim face and body.”

Commie raised her brows even higher, but chose to drop it. “How was your day then, since you’re the only one who slept through the night?” Commie turned her attention to Ancom, who had been detachedly listening in on their conversation.

“Uhm,” they swallowed the lump that immediately formed in their throat when they thought back to the only thing that happened today. “Not much. Stayed in, looked at funny videos.”

“Did you like your classes?”

“Oh, I didn’t go.”

“What?” Ancap’s head whipped up. “What do you mean, you didn’t go?”

“I just. Didn’t go,” Ancom furrowed their brows. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal! You _have_ to visit those courses!” Ancap glowered.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“I’ll tell you whatever I want, because I’m letting you stay here for _free_ , so you don’t really get a say!” Ancap was nearly shouting now. She looked even more stressed out than during the day, bags under her eyes more prominent and hair even more disheveled than usual.

“You’d just let me starve on the street as soon as I’m not useful to you anymore! You’re such a piece of shit!” Ancom sprang up from their seat.

“What else did you expect?” Ancap hissed.

Neither of them noticed Nazi badly stifling her grin. She bit her tongue to keep herself from interfering; she’d just ruin it.

“You can rot in your self-made hell alone, for all I care. Fuck you,” Ancom spat and ran out the apartment.

Why had they even thought Ancap liked them. Why. That was mistake number one; trust a capitalist. They couldn’t cooperate for shit, everything was just a commodity; company, friendship, and – they shuddered – sex.

They suddenly felt very dirty. It overshadowed their anger.

Standing around outside the building, they sat in a spot next to the communal trashcan. They had slept on the street before; usually because they were so high they couldn’t even say the word ‘fascist’ right, but they still knew the tricks. Nooks next to trashcans tended to be warm, and trash was also great for sifting through.

Staring up at the stars, Ancom regretted not having taken their stuff with them; they planned to return, but there was no telling whether Ancap would sell their belongings in the meantime. Or maybe Nazi would destroy them on purpose. They half expected the kitchen window up ahead to open and the fascist throwing their things out and on the floor to taunt them.

Ancom started crying. They could really, really use something to forget where they were right now. Thinking of their bag lying on the floor in their open room, they scoffed. Ancap was definitely going to steal the last of their stash. _I don’t steal, I trade_. Bullshit.

The main door of the building opened, and somebody carrying out their trash exited. Ancom unabashedly watched them come closer until they stood in front of each other.

“That’s not a great place to be at tonight,” the small girl said. She had pitch black hair tied to a thick, loose ponytail and ran around in a mismatched sweatsuit; it looked more like a child on vacation than the outfit of a college student. The small frame didn’t help.

“Would it be better any other night?” Ancom deadpanned, instinctively leaning away when the girl dumped the bag into the trashcan.

“The skies are clear tonight.” That sounded mysterious; her voice was high-pitched and childlike, giving the whole encounter an unearthly air. “Overcast nights would be better. Where do you live?”

Ancom considered for a moment whether they should claim they lived on the streets; cut ties with that horrible shared flat while they still could. “Technically, up there,” they pointed up, at where they assumed their kitchen was.

The girl tilted their head, confused.

“I had a falling out with the capitalist pig who owns the place.” They imagined the girl’s eyes widening for a second, then she held out her hand.

“Stay with me for the night, rather than here. That’s safer.”

Ancom hesitated for a second, then took her hand, hoisting themselves up with her help.

“You also live here?” Ancom asked awkwardly as they rode the elevator together. They had flashbacks to nuzzling Ancap in here.

“Mhm,” the girl answered.

Ancom bit their tongue. It was so hard to interact with people when sober. Especially with their head still throbbing.

They went into the apartment next to their usual one; it was much worse lit and somehow way dirtier, as if the inhabitants had been here for a really long time and never ever cleaned after themselves. Not that Ancom gave much of a shit.

“Posadist?” someone called from one of the rooms.

“Yeah?” the little girl answered. The door to the room opened and a creepy looking blonde girl leaned her head out.

“Do you think this is cute?” she asked, stepping into full view in a sexy night shift.

“I don’t think it matters,” Posadist said, “Anarcho-monarchy forbade playing music in the night.”

“Dang it!” she cursed. She noticed Ancom slouching behind Posadist. “What’s that?”

 _Charming_.

Posadist looked up at them questioningly; Ancom’s eyes flitted from left to right. They noticed a weird, distinct smell.

“I’m, uhm, Ancom. Hi,” they stammered.

“Ah,” the blonde replied dismissively before disappearing back into her room.

“What’s her problem?” Ancom grumbled.

“Just ignore her,” Posadist walked towards a door adorned with a myriad of blinking LEDs. When she turned her key, the lights went from red to blue, and Ancom whistled appreciatively.

“Cool effect.”

The room wasn’t big, maybe a little bigger than theirs, but it was chock full with electronic crap. Adjusting to the messy sight of cables and buttons and lights in the otherwise relatively dark room, Ancom spotted instruments amongst the clutter, from keyboards, to 808 drums, to electrical violins.

“So, you’re a musician?” they asked. Still just as asinine. Maybe they could sneak into their room and snatch the last of the DMT.

Posadist nodded and dropped into a comically oversized desk chair, gesturing at a normal sized one. Ancom sat on it, stifling a laugh at how ridiculously small the girl looked in the overpowering chair. “I study music theory.”

“Oh, are you the one Nazi and Commie complained about last night?”

“Probably.”

“Want to show me some of your stuff?”

“Sure!” Posadist turned to her computer, starting a synth-y background track. “I like looping,” she explained, then got up and created a beat with her drums.

“Lit,” Ancom complimented. The music was actually pretty cool they thought as they watched a whole song being created in front of them. But their headache increased as the music got louder and more grating.

Posadist seemed to notice. She didn’t stop the music, but reached under her desk, pulling out a little can, opening it and holding it out to Ancom; a handful of white pills lay inside.

Ancom took one and threw it back; they were already feeling better, especially after their new friend hadn’t asked them for a favor or money or whatever else in return for the treat.

Posadist continued making her music, and Ancom occasionally shouted extra instructions at her; she always followed suit, creating a crazy amalgamation of noises and rhythms that only turned more intense in Ancom’s high mind. The impressions became less and less clear, and the muffled red light coming from a coil of LEDs lying at the back of the desk made everything even more surreal. Posadist told them of the future and a time when people would take care of each other.

When she got up to pick up her violin and play a solo that was both mesmerizing and disjointed at the same time, Ancom caught themselves looking around more, trying to discern the space around them better. The aura was a little threatening now, they could feel it. It had been the entire time, hadn’t it?

Something was wrong. “Why did you say that about the sky?” they yelled over the music. They suddenly wanted it to stop assaulting their ears. 

_This high is going bad_.

Posadist only shot them a look, continuing their play on the violin.

Ancom turned to look at the windows. They wanted to see the sky, but instead, they noticed tinfoil being stuck all around the window frame. Then they saw little trashy figurines of aliens on the windowsill. They swiveled slowly to look at the door; there was some sort of metal surrounding it.

Posadist was staring at them and smiling.

Their eyes wandered over the clutter. A white, boxlike object caught their eye, but they couldn’t reach out to take it. The whole situation was devolving into a very unspectacular nightmare.

“The world we know is going to end,” Posadist started explaining over her strokes. “But you seem like a good person. You should survive.”

Ancom raised their hands to cover their ears.

“Why would it end?” they shouted. The idea was laughable, but they couldn’t filter it out.

“Because that’s the only way!”

Ancom hunched over. “Only way for what?” They doubted they had been heard; their words were way too quiet.

“The blast will cleanse us, and they will come help us.” Posadist fondly stared into the night sky.

No longer capable of excusing themselves properly, Ancom rose and dashed out of the room and the apartment; they felt better but worse in the brightly lit main corridor, the music muffled now and the eerie presence of Posadist a little further away. They stumbled over to their own apartment door, Ancap be damned. They didn’t know how Posadist could possibly know the things she claimed, but Ancom was convinced enough that they didn’t want to be outside. They blindly reached out to fumble for the doorhandle, but their hand was batted away by the door swinging open. Ancom fell backwards to the floor when someone ran into them.

“Ancom?” Commie looked down at them, but didn’t help them up. “Turn down the music, it’s late,” she instead commanded, staring back ahead.

Ancom wasn’t fully aware of their surroundings, only really noticing the uncomfortable sting of the carpet bristles digging into their thighs. A door behind them closed and they felt themselves getting lifted up.

“Where were you?”

Ancom shook their head. “I don’t know,” they slurred.

Something soft below them. Then something soft above. A sip of cold, clear water.

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy, I have no clue about music, but I like the idea of Posadism making it. I also don't have a clue about bad highs, but that's something I can honestly live without. Hopefully the scene was still believable.
> 
> Poor Ancom. Nobody seems to like them the way they wanna be liked: for no reason.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed c:


	6. Chapter 6

Clear rays of sunlight fell in through the window. Ancom rolled over to shield their eyes, still burning and unwilling to open. Somebody rummaged around the room; quiet shuffling and scribbling drifted through the clean smelling air.

The mattress shifted and Ancom slid into the dent, right up to something warm and hard. They instinctively reached out and curled up into it; only now did they notice they’d been cold and shivering. The warmth of the body they pressed up against spread through them, first increasing the shaking, then soothing it.

“Wake up, Ancom.” The voice was sonorous, the only sound so far that didn’t hurt their ears.

They nuzzled further into the uncomfortably hard jeans.

“You’re on for shopping duty.”

Ancom whined. Their own voice hurt their ears as well.

“Come on. You’re part of this group, you have to do your part.”

“No, I’m not,” they mewled, burrowing their head further into the denim. A hot hand stroked their hair, soothing the dull pain coursing through their head. “Ancap’s gonna throw me out. I missed classes again.” They squeezed their eyes further shut.

“Not as long I’m here. You do your duties, you get to stay.” Commie’s tone was resolute, juxtaposing strangely with the soft fondling. “And you didn’t miss your classes yet. It’s eight am.”

Her thumb touched Ancom’s cheeks, and the callous on it pulled them closer into reality.

_Eight am?_

They sat up suddenly. Big mistake; their head split open with pain, exacerbated by the sunlight’s assault on their open eyes. The pain shot right down to their stomach, and they were just quick enough to lean over the nearby trashcan. They mostly expunged stomach acid, but it still took several heavy heaves to get it all out.

“You shouldn’t take so many drugs.”

They breathed heavily over the trashcan. “Especially not from strangers. I know,” they deadpanned. “Don’t ever trust anyone, and abuse any trust people have in you. Where have I heard that before.”

Commie laid a hand on their back, running it in circles. “No. But drugs make it harder to be productive and helpful. You’re shutting yourself down to the world; it’s both selfish and self destructive.”

Ancom blinked at the trashcan a couple of times before feeling stable enough to sit up for real.

“Why would you wake me up at eight am?” they pouted.

“It’s a good time to start the day!” Commie rose to her feet, pulling a very out of balance Ancom up with her. “You can get chores done, then go to work, and then you can indulge in thought freely after.”

Ancom rolled their eyes; even that hurt their head. “What is it with you people and work. As if that’s the only valuable thing anyone could ever do.”

“It’s necessary and honorable to work for you society; only unjust work is to be frowned upon,” Commie lectured, ushering Ancom out of the room and towards the apartment door. She handed them a list of groceries and some money, instructing them to bring back the receipt and the rest of the cash. Ancom looked at both with some disgust. As if they were going to buy any animal products.

“You’ll never get her to do what you want,” Nazi leaned in her doorframe, smugly smiling at Commie. “Anarchists like her can’t follow rules. I think it’s biological; nothing you can do to change it.”

“I’ve found motivating people by treating them with kindness and respect works pretty well. Better than killing off anyone vaguely not like you,” Commie examined her nails.

“Oh, boohoo. All you people can think of to discredit me is to caricature my points until they’re unrecognizable. Must be difficult to argue with someone you know is right.”

“There’s nothing right about pointless intolerance,” Commie brushed past her to the kitchen; Nazi bristled at the contact, momentarily glaring up at the taller woman.

“That’s just the thing,” she hopped after her, unwilling to relent just yet, “it’s not pointless. Societies only work when it’s individuals work, right?”

Commie poured herself a shot of vodka. “Just spit out whatever chauvinist garbage this is leading up to.” She threw back the glass.

Nazi raised her brows at the early morning drink. _Someone_ had a problem.

“Uh. Right, _some_ people are better at working than others. There are parasitic elements in every society, and I’ll even admit, every race. But they’re not equally distributed.”

“Mhm,” Commie poured herself another glass.

“And that fact is pretty indisputable. Everyone knows this. That’s why normies end up voting for what you’ve construed as radical ideas, when they’re simply the closest depiction of reality in the political landscape.”

Commie chuckled darkly, putting the bottle back on the shelf. “I wouldn’t claim victory by popularity for your ideas if I were you. There’s hardly a less popular ideology.”

“Oh, you think? I think you’d be surprised how many people would rather go for ethnic homogeneity than communism.”

Commie just rolled her eyes, making for the kitchen exit.

“How about a bet?” Nazi called after her.

Commie opened her door, but turned to look at Nazi. “What kind of bet do you think you’ll win?” she smirked.

“A random stranger. Not an academic, not a friend of mine or yours, someone who’s entirely unpolitical. We both talk to them, bring up our best points, and then see who they’d choose.”

“I’m not getting tricked by you to talk to one of your fascist cronies.”

“No cronies,” Nazi assured, “a coworker of mine. I actually happen to hate her.”

“How so? Is she Jewish?”

Nazi put on a stilted smile. “ _No_ ,” she ground out, “she just talks a lot.”

“Like you.”

The interruptions were grating on her nerves. “Whatever. She lives here and between all her yammering has not once made a political statement. I didn’t say a word to her, and even if I did, I had at most a day with her. I’m sure you at least think you’d be able to undo that.”

“Alright, Nazi,” Commie sneered, stroking her long hair back. “What’s the bet then?”

Nazi shrugged generously. “I just want to prove my point. You can make up rewards. Maybe some useless plaques.”

“As if you weren’t big on handing out trinkets of honor,” Commie rolled her eyes. “If I win, you leave Ancom alone.”

“Done,” she responded almost too quickly. “But if I win,” she pretended to think on the options, “you call her what she is. She.”

Commie scrunched her brows incredulously, then broke out into barking laughter. “You are the pettiest fool I’ve ever encountered, Nazi.” She wiped a tear away from how hard she had laughed.

“That means you’re on?” _Laugh all you want._

“Sure.”

“Then I’ll text her right now. I’m assuming you’re not doing anything in the evening, right?”

“Whatever, fascist.”

Ancap was still hovering over her papers, her phone, and her computer at the same time, hurriedly checking her stocks and trying to make the terrible legalese make sense in her head. She couldn’t remember when she had last slept. Considering the fucked up state Ancom had returned in last night, she had figured their noisy neighbor also had a supply of drugs and gone and bought some of them; Posadist had tried to convince her to stay and listen to her creepy musings on nuclear weapons, but Ancap hadn’t had the time. She refused to buy any of the hallucinogenic crap, convincing the smaller girl after some arguing to hand over the cocaine she knew she had; it wasn’t a lot. By now, her powder savings were completely empty and she had nothing to fall back on. Ancom had better come in with a new stash.

People came and went to the apartment; Ancap paid them no heed. Her cousin had sent her a letter making it very clear she wasn’t happy with how things had gone with the apartment building. Ancap had at first considered throwing it right into the trash, but she just in time noticed the implication of her cousin siccing one of her friends on her. Ancap had neither the time nor the money to afford having someone snoop around in her business.

Stupid Libertarian. Why couldn’t she just take the L and leave it? Ancap had gotten the building fair and square when they all decided a lump sum would be fine with them. Short term idiots.

Her eyes got blurry; it was getting dark, and she wasn’t entirely sure if a night had passed in between. She blindly reached for the last of the coke on her desk. The bag was empty.

She blinked.

A sign to go to sleep?

Loud shuffling and giggling from the next room.

Blood scalding hot from the need for another hit, she stood up violently, knocking over her chair as she stormed over to Ancom’s room. They _better_ have some coke.

She knocked loudly. More shuffling, then Commie came out the door, smiling suspiciously.

Ancap stared after her with thinly veiled disgust, then turned to Ancom, innocently lounging on their mattress.

“Sup?” they asked, voice clearly a little slurred from something or other.

“Cocaine.” Not very charming, but Ancap couldn’t do any better right now.

“Oh, uh,” Ancom rolled over, reaching for their backpack, laying sprawled over their mattress all the while. “Here you go,” they tossed it at Ancap, missing by a foot. The little bag unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

“You were really mean to me yesterday,” they noted.

“Was I?” Ancap said disinterestedly, picking up the bag.

“Yeah. You made me run away.”

“You’re back, aren’t you. Making friends with Commie no less.” She examined the contents of the bag in the low light, trying to calculate the money she owed in her head. Ancom was too goddamn stupid and high to do it themselves.

“You don’t like her.”

She shrugged, fiddling some money out of her pockets. “If you want to follow her rules, you’re free to do so. I’m not letting her order me around.”

Ancom stared at one of the ceiling corners, seemingly lost in thought. “She told me people like you are the root of all evil.”

Ancap snorted. “Providing you with shelter. How evil of me.”

“She said you didn’t build it.”

“So fucking what. I pay for the maintenance and organize that everything works. I have the risks and the costs, I get something in return; you didn’t build it either, did you,” she snapped.

“I think you’re jealous,” Ancom giggled, falling backwards.

“Why don’t you just shut the _fuck_ up you stupid leech and pay rent.” She threw the money on the floor and slammed the door behind her.

She could easily imagine the hurt look on their face; a mix of satisfaction and guilt washed over her, and she had time for neither of them.

“Trouble with the degenerate?”

Ancap squeezed her eyes shut. “Something you want?” she ground out.

“No. I'm good with our arrangement as is. But I do seem to be in the minority there,” Nazi mused as she put in what Ancap knew to be fake pearl earrings from afar.

“I don’t know what their fucking problem is. They agree to shit and then they don’t wanna do it. Always with their stupid moral high ground as if they ever did fuck all,” she seethed, clenching her fist around the bag.

Nazi shrugged. “It’s in her nature. People like her don’t really appreciate the national spirit. Have you ever wondered why?”

Ancap waved her off. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

“We can have that conversation whenever you’re ready,” Nazi singsonged.

She couldn’t help but grin as Ancap disappeared behind her door; she looked like absolute shit. Nazi didn’t know or care what exactly was going on with her, but she was pretty sure that with a bit of help, she’d soon realize throwing out Ancom was the only right choice. Then their apartment would be clean of that filth again.

She checked her phone. Commie’s evening classes were nearly over, so she could get going now.

As she walked the dark path along the field towards the bridge between the building and campus, she kept her pace brisk; the sky was clear and the night a little cold, and the area rather creepy.

As she crossed campus to reach the lonely bar they were scheduled to meet in, someone approached her from the side.

“Hey, girl,” he called.

She squinted up at him.

“Jack. From the party,” he reminded her, keeping up with her pace without a hitch.

“Ah,” she slowed down a little bit out of politeness. She rummaged her mind for who he was before she expended too much energy on him.

“You know, it’s pretty rude not to call people back.” He didn’t sound friendly; more slimy than anything else. How paltry. His whiny voice juggled her memory; he had turned out to be a beta after all. She remembered seeing him meekly sit with his friends on campus, letting the others cajole over him as if he wasn’t even there. Pathetic.

“I’ve been very busy,” she smiled. They reached the bar together. “But I’m meeting someone right now, so-”

“Already.”

“It’s rude to follow women around in the night. So if you’d be so kind to leave,” she gestured at the street they had just walked down.

“Bitch,” he spat and stomped off.

 _How original_ , she thought and rolled her eyes.

She was pleasantly surprised to see Commie and her coworker were just as timely as she was, sitting at separate tables in the bar. The three of them agreed on a single table and introduced each other.

“So what are we doing today?”

“Just a night of drinking,” Nazi purred, ordering the first round of drinks.

“So you live at home?” Commie addressed the scraggly brunette.

“Mhm. Just got my first proper job.”

“So your family has been supporting you?”

“Uhm, I guess-”

“But they’re business owners, right?” Nazi cut in.

“Yup, the hardware store down the street.”

They questioned her for several minutes, always mindful to call for refills whenever she seemed to become a little uncomfortable with the interrogation.

Then the implicating started.

Commie suggested mutual support was the way to go. Nazi asked if their town had changed since the erection of the college. Commie noted the train station service had become rusty since it was privatized – Nazi was sure that had been a guess on Commie’s part, but she happened to be right this time. Nazi countered with the pointed question of _who_ _exactly_ caused the most trouble for stores like hers.

They got increasingly drunk, and their words more brazen.

“Look,” Commie slung her arm around her shoulders, “You must understand your store sells necessary goods; and everyone needs them,” she slurred.

“Yeah?”

“So if _everyone_ needs them, _everyone_ should own them. Right?”

“I mean,” she took another swig from her bottle, “Sure. Wouldn’t want people not to be able to afford drills and stuff.”

“ _But_ ,” Nazi dragged her coworker over to her side, “ _some_ people would abuse that system. You know some people work better than others. Some people are just naturally lazy and _useless_.”

“I see what you mean,” the brunette trailed off.

“But you shouldn’t let workers starve on the street,” Commie was looking more at Nazi than their target.

“But some people don’t deserve to eat from the table the others set,” Nazi returned the stare.

“But everyone who works should live.”

“But some people _don’t_ work!”

“Guys, guys,” her coworker pushed the girls apart as they had been getting increasingly loud and agitated. “You both make really good points.”

“But who made _better_ ones?” Nazi squawked, too drunk to be embarrassed about it.

“As I said, both of you-”

“Just spit it out. We won’t be offended. Who is right?” Commie commanded, authoritarian tone undermined by how difficult speaking seemed for her.

“I think you’re both right.”

Nazi looked at her incredulously. “What? Just fucking decide, you dirty fence sitter.”

“How can you agree with her disgusting racism?” Commie exclaimed, wildly gesturing at Nazi.

“How can you agree with her hippie nonsense?” Nazi shot right back.

“I’m _not_ a hippie, you _fasc_ -”

“Jesus, relax,” Nazbol held up her hands. “You’re not really arguing against each other. I don’t get it. I think you’re both pretty rad. You opened my eyes. Thanks, guys,” she said amicably, before ordering the barkeeper over to pay her tab. “You should like, be cool to each other,” she slung her arms around both their shoulders.

On their way home, Nazi and Commie walked in stunned silence.

“Do you think she’s right?” Nazi asked quietly.

Commie stared up at the stars. “No.”

“I hate you.” There was no vitriol in her voice. It was just a statement.

“I hate you, too.”

“But why? Why, if we don’t even oppose?” Nazi babbled as they reached their building.

“I don’t know. You’re awful,” Commie tried.

“I don’t know. I don’t really care what you do.” They stood outside the building, staring at each other. The alcohol buzzed heavily in Nazi’s head; she looked up at Commie, her long hair swaying in the slight wind. She was really pretty, and if Nazi was honest, at least she had ideas of her own unlike the myriad of plastic boys Nazi had wasted her time on. At least Commie had some balls.

Before she could hesitate, Nazi stepped forward and on her tiptoes, kissing Commie.

Commie immediately shoved her backwards and Nazi tripped over her own feet, crash landing on the floor. The taller woman looked shocked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, perplex.

Nazi tried to get up, slipping. She had to laugh. “Just fuck me, Commie.”

That did the trick. Commie dragged her up and behind a nook, slamming her against the wall and kissing her. She lifted her up and Nazi instinctively wrapped her legs around her.

Nazi was always more the quiet type; she resisted making all too much noise when Commie assaulted her neck and ground into her hips. Her nails dug into Commie’s back as hard as they could; Nazi hoped she could at least hurt Commie a little bit. She still hated her. She didn’t even know why anymore, but everything felt wrong right that second as she grit her teeth to keep from moaning under Commie’s ministrations, only exacerbated by the filthy nonsense the brunette whispered into her ear.

“Fuck!” she groaned as she came, scratching all across Commie’s neck, reveling in how the tearing skin felt. It would’ve been even better if Commie had so much as flinched.

The brunette ground into her some more, the overstimulation making her see stars, but Commie was done soon after.

Had that been better? Better than Chad or Brad or Jack or however they all were called?

She felt worse. Not as empty, but worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Libunity drifting apart while Authunity is moving together is yikes. Like I feel those two would hate each other the most even though they're not opposed.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

Ancom didn’t even try to be quiet when they returned to their apartment in the middle of the night; they were exhausted, but filled with overwhelming energy at the same time, and they felt like could rip the door out of its hinges if they wanted to.

They looked at the door to their room. The frowned. They didn’t really want to go in there and be alone.

Instead, they turned on their heel and stumbled into Commie’s room. She had been really nice to them lately. Ancom wanted someone to be nice to them.

As they closed the door behind them, Commie bolted upright, quickly grabbing a knife from under her pillow. Ancom giggled.

“Whooo,” they made ghost noises, “You cannot stab me! I’m ethereal,” they singsonged.

“Jesus, Ancom,” she put the knife down. “What are you doing awake?”

Ancom took that as an invitation to sit on her bed. It was so much softer and more comfortable than their mattress. “Bashin’ some fash,” they tried to dangle their legs off of the bed, but it was too low to the ground, so they just ended up stomping on the floor.

“What fascists are out in the middle of the night?” Commie asked incredulously, sitting up fully.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ancom leaned in a little, but quickly drew away again. “Some friends caught wind some frat guys were going out. We took some...I think it was crack? And one thing led to another. I think we scared them pretty good,” they grinned.

Commie nodded overexaggeratedly, focused more on extracting Ancom’s bat from their grip and leaning it against the wall.

“And how was your night? Did you read _theory_ and babble about it, or did you actually _do_ something?”

Commie swallowed thickly.

“You should go to bed,” she said instead of responding. Ancom had already forgotten what they had asked anyway.

“I am in bed!” Ancom assured, breaking out into another set of giggles.

“I meant your bed.”

“Yours, mine...seems pretty bourgeois to me,” Ancom splayed themselves over the mattress, forcing Commie to make some space.

She sighed. “At least come under the blanket.”

Ancom clumsily let themselves be folded under the covers, immediately snuggling up to Commie. “This is really nice. You’re the only nice person here,” they mumbled. “Ancap says you’re a bootlicker who hates freedom.”

Commie shifted. “Ancap is good at selling her ideas.”

“And herself,” Ancom whispered spitefully up at the dark ceiling.

“People like her,” Commie sounded somber, “they thrive off of hierarchy. It’s the only thing they know.”

“One of my friends- they, they said that our system is based on hierarchy, so people mistake it for absolute reality.”

Commie crossed her arms behind her head and Ancom used the opportunity to press themselves closer to her side. “Hierarchies are old and convincing, that’s true. But they are neither logical, nor moral. It is only through propaganda that the ideas of equality that emerge during times of extreme injustice can be suppressed by the flailing ruling classes.”

Ancom broke out into laughter, burying the sound in Commie’s chest. “You don’t sound like you’re part of the proletariat, dude, sorry.”

“That is just another part of propaganda,” Commie retorted, “portraying the lower class as stupid and uneducated. The working class is neither illiterate nor unable to understand greater concepts.”

“I don’t think you’re right,” Ancom stretched. “Fascists always use simple language to reach the masses. You gotta understand you’re alienating people by talking like...the way you do.” Their words were swallowed by a yawn halfway through. They settled back into Commie’s side, nuzzling her a last time before drifting off to sleep.

Commie still lay awake, tentatively looking down at Ancom’s peaceful expression. Their chest rose and sank, blissfully unaware of how tense the body they had curled up against was.

_Kindness never gets anyone anywhere. Only strict rigor gets strict obedience._

Nazi’s hateful words from the evening still rung in her ears. She was great at taunting others, so much so that Commie had to wonder if there was anything else to her. From how she behaved, her ideology might as well have been chosen on basis of what would piss off the most people.

_And strict obedience is what big, complicated systems like ours need._

Ancom grumbled in their sleep. They were sweet, in a way. Lovably useless.

_Otherwise, they will invariably crumble to the claws of money hungry interest groups like Ancap._

Not completely useless; in their conversation with Nazbol, Nazi had accidentally let it shine through that she was, actually, a little afraid of Ancom. It hadn’t been what she said, but how she had said it; she seemed to know Ancom had very little regard for rules. She couldn’t hide behind the laws of civil conduct from someone who didn’t respect them.

_People only respect the strong. Strength is what gets people motivated. It’s in their nature._

She felt ashamed, having Ancom happily sigh in their sleep, when only a few hours prior she had looked in the blue eyes of a monster as it came under curses. She had looked into those eyes and seen the abyss; and the abyss had seen her. Tried to pull her in.

_There can be no room for discussion. You know that. We both do._

But Nazi was awfully practical at times; Commie had already had ample opportunity to see that in the short time they’d known each other. Her persistent anger, disgust, and absolute inability to compromise made her an effective actor.

_There will always be people who don’t want to play by your rules. You can’t let them do that._

Nazi was also always alone. Commie had walked past her eating lunch by herself in a corner of the Mensa; she had almost felt sorry for her. She didn’t seem to like anyone at all, only throwing vaguely disgusted looks at passers-by.

_Because if you do, give them just a sliver of room to act out, they will see it as weakness._

Their talk with Nazbol had been more than confusing, and Nazi seemed to have felt the same way. She recalled the image of Nazi laying sprawled on the floor, laughing like a maniac who couldn’t hold their alcohol, looking straight at her and telling her to-

 _And other, more dangerous groups will also see it. There can be no dissent_.

The icy voice in her head grew so loud she didn’t even hear Ancom mumble something into her chest.

“Relax, dude. I can’t sleep otherwise,” they groused.

She felt so conflicted, amplified by the portrait of Ancom pouting up at her with sleepy eyes being juxtaposed with Nazi’s acrid expression staring back at her in her inner eye.

She forced herself to gently run a hand along Ancom’s back to soothe them back to sleep as she laid awake.

Ancap sat at the coffee shop table, impatiently tapping her foot. She caught a glance of herself in the store window; she looked even more spindly than usual. Multiple days with cocaine and not a lot else seemed to take a toll on her physical appearance. A price worth paying.

She looked up when her cousin appeared in front of her. She rose and they shook hands, amicably gesturing for each other to sit. Libertarian was dressed like a slutty secretary with business aspirations as per usual, in a tight little miniskirt and a dress shirt tucked into it. What a normie.

“So,” she started.

“So,” Ancap continued.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

Ancap pushed her sunglasses up on her forehead, shrugging graciously. “You do what you think you have to.”

Libertarian squirmed in her seat. “I don’t want there to be hard feelings between us,” she brushed her fingers through her ponytail.

Ancap just scoffed. “You won’t find anything,” she grinned. “That contract is waterproof.”

Her cousin frowned. “You tricked me.”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You can read, right? I didn’t trick you.”

“Well, my lawyer will be the judge of that,” Libertarian sounded testy now.

“Lawyer?” Ancap sat upright, leaning forward. “I thought this was a friendly meeting.”

“I guess you’re the one who can’t read, then.”

“Jesus Christ, can’t you take care of your business yourself? Don’t you _study_ business?”

“When you study it, you learn a second pair of eyes on your side can make all the difference in the world.”

A dark haired woman came up behind her, announcing her presence. The cousins stood up and greeted her.

“Hi, pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we can settle this on friendly terms,” she smiled brightly as they sat back down. Ancap already wanted to kill her.

After wading through the usual idle chitchat Libertarian was so fond of, they went over the legal situation. Ancap seethed on the inside, the desire to strangle her cousin on the spot growing every second, but kept a straight, affable face throughout the whole meeting. The lawyer was reasonable, too reasonable; it was the most infuriating thing to listen to her drone on about compromise. Ancap was offended on her cousin's behalf. She wouldn’t have paid full price for a lawyer that didn’t even defend her side properly.

“Libertarian,” she started when the lawyer had left again. “What is this?”

“What?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you tricked me!”

Ancap rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of this spiel. You can’t tell me you get along with this milquetoast lawyer gal halfassedly defending your position.”

Libertarian didn’t answer. She just glared at Ancap.

“Look,” Ancap softened her tone into something more alluring, “I’m hosting a campus party this weekend. Why don’t you come, too? Maybe we can sort out our issues in a more relaxed setting.”

“I don’t know, Ancap...I remember pretty acutely that that’s how you tricked me in the first place.”

“That should only give you more experience to evade my ‘tricks’,” she winked.

Libertarian hesitated for some more moments. “Alright. Can’t say no to a good party I guess.”

“Great!” Ancap pulled her up and gently ushered her towards the exit. “I’ll look forward to seeing you, then,” she grinned.

Commie searched through the fridge for something she could turn into something edible with ever growing frustration. Ancom hadn’t followed her instructions; not only had they clearly pocketed the rest of the cash and immediately spent it on drugs, but she also wasn’t entirely sure whether they bought so much as a single item on the list.

Commie didn’t know how to cook tofu. Or faux meat chunks made from peas. Or any of the shit Ancom brought.

Nazi entered the room, clearly intent on leaving again when she noticed Commie’s presence, but Commie wouldn’t have it.

“Nazi,” she ordered, “you have cooking duty today.”

Nazi froze in place, looking anywhere but at Commie. “No, I don’t.”

“There’s a change of plans.”

“What? No, that’s not-”

“ _You have cooking duty_. Cook something. Now.” Her tone was hard and icy; she had always known her voice commanded authority, so she had always taken care to soften it, but just now she had seen what it could do when put to good use. Nazi scurried towards the fridge, immediately fishing out ingredients and a cutting board.

Commie went back to her room, leaving Nazi to her own devices; she had sufficiently intimidated her.

She threw open the door, being met with a groaning Ancom.

“Go away,” they moaned into the mattress, shifting further towards the wall.

“No. Get up. You didn’t do your shopping duty.”

“What are you talking about, yeah I did,” Ancom seemed to slowly wake up, propping themselves up on the elbows.

“There are items missing.”

“Because I'm not gonna buy unethical-”

“You are going to buy what I say you buy. Right now. Get out of my bed and go be useful.” Guilt pooled in her stomach at the befuddled and betrayed expression Ancom directed at her.

“Why are you so mean all of a sudden?” they asked as they hurriedly rolled out of bed, the beginnings of fright etched on their face.

“Do your job,” Commie maintained her stern stance.

“Screw you!” Ancom snarled, backing out of the room and apartment.

Commie glared at the door for a few moments, then exhaled deeply. She waited for a shitty comment from behind her, but nothing came. Just vague clinking from the kitchen. Maybe Nazi thought she had won. Won something. Commie didn’t know what, but Nazi was always obsessed with winning and losing, even when the concept made no sense.

Or maybe she had actually scared her into shutting up.

Before she could muse on the topic any longer, the door swung open again. She felt herself go weak at once, wanting nothing more than to apologize to Ancom for interrupting them and being so harsh, but it was Ancap who strode through the door.

Commie’s face effortlessly went back to the hard, stony mask she had worn before.

Ancap stood in the doorway for a few seconds.

“You doing anything specific here? Or do you just like the door?”

“Shut up, kulak. You have cleaning duty today.”

“Huh?”

Commie didn’t feel like arguing. She went back to her room to brood.

Ancap sauntered over to the kitchen. “Cleaning duty?” she asked as she sat at the counter, watching a stressed out Nazi scrolling through her phone with a kitchen knife in her hand.

“Commie made a schedule,” she gestured at the door where a piece of paper hung.

“Ah. I’ll pay you five bucks if you do it for me.”

Nazi’s eyes snapped up. “Fu- Just make it fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Fine.”

Ancap took a long sip out of a soda she had picked up from the fridge. “What’s got you so stressed out?”

Nazi’s gaze nervously flitted to her and back to her phone screen. “Nothing.”

“Sure,” Ancap took another sip.

“You didn’t look so hot yourself lately, either.” She turned to the slab of tofu on the cutting board.

“Yeah, well, I got it under control now. On that note, there’s a party this weekend. Tell all your friends and all,” she lifted the soda can at the blonde struggling with the tofu.

“Do you do anything other than coke and hosting parties?” Nazi muttered.

“Collecting rent.”

“Don’t let Commie hear that.”

Ancap laughed. “What’s she gonna do about it?”

Nazi shrugged. “Worst case scenario, kill you.” Ancap swore she saw her shudder.

“I have my protection.”

Nazi peered at her. “Like what?”

“Oh, as if you don’t have some as well.”

Nazi nervously chuckled. “What?”

Scrunching her brows Ancap leaned closer, lowering her voice. “A gun.” She leaned back. “I’ve seen your gun oil lying around. No need to hide it at this point. I don’t really judge.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“We could go to a shooting range together some time. I used to go with my cousins, but things have been...tense.”

“I didn’t know this wretched town even had one.”

“It’s small, but I like it fine. I can show you around.”

Nazi considered for a second. She seemed suspicious of Ancap’s motives.

“I just prefer going to the gun range in company,” Ancap put on her most agreeable smile.

Nazi chuckled. “Yeah. All right. If you say so. Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "yours, mine...seems pretty bourgeois to me" line is a nice little insider/stolen joke for some of the commies out there.
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter because it's mostly filler; sadly, so will be the next one (I try to write these one in advance), but then it'll finally be time for some more spicy things to happen again. Hopefully enjoyable nonetheless!


	8. Chapter 8

_Bang_.

“Good one!” Ancap called out over the headphones. Nazi grinned back.

“Try to top that!” she yelled.

The gun range was absolutely lovely. It was not far from town, but it felt miles removed from its vaguely urban shadow, set up on a field with tall, dark pine trees surrounding it. It was very small, with only a handful of stands to shoot from and a cute little booth with a friendly looking man sitting in it, watching the few gun enthusiasts crossing his path enjoying themselves on his range. Surprisingly, there were some older men there with them; they'd made lighthearted small talk about guns when they had stood together at the booth, but otherwise left each other be.

Nazi loved it. The sound of the shot cutting through the clean air and the tinny clang of her bullet hitting the metal cutout up ahead was like music to her ears. She got to use her pretty pistol much too rarely.

Ancap was also surprisingly easy to be around; she seemed to enjoy her much more modern collection of firearms almost more than Nazi, maybe only because she had a larger selection. When pressed on why she had so many, she had insisted she just liked buying them.

Nazi should’ve been jealous, having come out with her single small pistol, but Ancap generously let her use hers as well, not even asking for a fee beyond what the bullets cost.

Ancap struck a pose before firing her shot at the target that Nazi had just hit point blank. She missed.

“Nice try,” Nazi laughed.

“Well, you haven’t seen my crown piece,” Ancap smirked mysteriously, before running over to her car. Nazi tilted her head at her, crossing her arms as she watched her rummage through her trunk.

She couldn’t help the look of awe that spread over her face when Ancap returned with a beautiful vintage rifle, proudly holding it like a soldier.

“That- where did you get that?” Nazi gasped, taking off her headphones.

“Oh, this?” she gave the rifle a smug look, “just bought it at a vintage auction a couple years back.”

“It’s beautiful,” Nazi marveled at the grain of the dark wood comprising most of the gun. Ancap handed it to her, folding her hands behind her back as she watched Nazi drool.

“Go ahead. Take a shot,” Ancap motioned her head at the range.

“Really?”

Ancap nodded. Nazi hopped, excited as a schoolgirl, to the stand, crouching to hit the target furthest back.

Ancap hovered behind her, whistling as her bullet shot right past the target.

“Sorry. I’m so nervous, I’m shaking; can I try again?”

Ancap pretended to consider for a moment. “Alright.”

Nazi shot again. This time she hit.

“The way it lies in my hands..,” she mesmered at the rifle as she got up to give it back. “It handles so well, you could easily hit several moving targets per minute.”

“Those German engineering boys knew what they were doing,” Ancap didn’t take it back, leaving Nazi to twirl it playfully in her hands, rubbing across the wooden finish and examining the dark hinges.

“It’s my favorite gun, you know?”

“Oh really?” Ancap asked. She did know. Of course she did. She had seen Nazi’s phone lying around on the counter, unlocked, with an offer from an auction for this precise rifle open. She wasn’t a goddamn amateur.

“It’s what got me into guns in the first place. It’s got such...engineering ingenuity. Simple, functional, but with some passion for aesthetics,” she gushed, holding the thing like she was slow dancing with it.

“Then why don’t you buy one?” Ancap baited.

Nazi sighed heavily. “I...can’t afford it. I’ve just never had that kind of money on the side at the same time.”

“Well,” Ancap put her hands on her hips, “that’s a pity.”

“It is.” Nazi looking at the gun as if it was her dead lover was so sad it was comical again.

Ancap left time for a pause to let Nazi stir in her desire for the rifle a little longer. “Look, I’m not a monster,” she began, reveling in how hopefully Nazi looked down at her. “It’s one of my faves as well...but I’m willing to sell. On rates, even. But expect a slight mark u-”

“Really? You’ll sell it to me? But it’s so beautiful!” Nazi exclaimed, seemingly appalled Ancap would be willing to part with it. She hugged it tighter to her chest as if to assure it that it was loved.

Ancap lifted her hands to get her to lower her voice. No one needed to know about their deal.

“Yes, it’s very beautiful. But I have a lot of guns, and I can just buy another one at some point if I miss it so much.”

Were those tears in Nazi’s eyes?

“No need to get all soppy with me, it’s just a deal,” she attempted to make things less weird.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” Nazi said, staring at the rifle again.

“Then let’s get to negotiating about the price, right?”

Ancom strolled through the empty night streets of the decrepit town, unsure what to do with themselves. They’d had another falling out with their leftist friends; they were constantly trying to get them to relent on their principles, called them radical and unreasonable. They were sick of it. They reminded them of Commie; they wanted to talk and talk endlessly without actually doing anything. While they were busy talking and sympathizing with fascists, the fascists were congregating and planning to eradicate them.

Ancom would go down kicking and screaming before they’d let the fascists win.

They would've hung out with Posadist, but she refused to leave the flat during clear nights and was very mindful to be quiet after ten pm, as her roommate had apparently commanded. Ancom was still confused how their neighbors handled their lives; it always smelled weird, that one creepy lady would come out at least once during their visits to ask about Nazi, and what they’d been able to identify as one of Ancap’s cousins made the rules that everyone abided for some reason.

Not that Posadist wasn’t also creepy. No matter how carefully Ancom avoided touching on anything even remotely related to the subject, she always came back to her weird visions of the apocalypse. Ancom didn’t _believe_ any of it per se, but it was unsettling enough to hear someone state it with the confidence others might claim the sun will rise in the morning. She’d show them her Geiger counter, or stupid looking antenna made from curled up tinfoil, or, as soon as she wasn’t allowed to make music anymore, she’d grab her binoculars and just stare into the sky. When Ancom had forced themselves to ask why, she went on to babble about higher races coming to help them. The silly nonsense was fun when Ancom was high, and Posadist really wasn’t stingy when it came to handing out drugs, but for one, it was always a mixed bag what kind of drugs Posadist would give them since she seemed only half aware of what was in her pills herself, and for another, the strict rules on being quiet after ten pm were hard to follow when tripping on mystery drugs.

So Ancom wandered around alone, swinging their bat, hoping vaguely to find some fascists to start a fight with.

At the bridge leading to the apartment building sat a dark figure on the floor, hunched over and smoking.

“Yo, what you got there?” Ancom called as they approached.

The figure looked up, blowing smoke right at them. They looked like absolute shit, make up running down their face and hair so disheveled Ancom wasn’t even sure it was connected to their head, and dressed head to toe in black.

“Cigarettes,” they said.

“Lame,” Ancom responded, taking it upon themselves to sit down next to the figure; they looked uncomfortable for a second before seemingly deciding not to care.

“Want some,” Ancom checked their pockets, “LSD?”

The figure frowned. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. It’s more fun than smoking, though.”

Only mumbling in return. Ancom threw in the LSD themselves.

“What’s with the bat?” the figure shifted further away.

“This?” Ancom lifted it up, waving it around a bit. “To scare fascists away,” they grinned at it.

The figure scoffed. “What for?”

Ancom raised their brows at them. “What do you mean, what for?”

“What’s the point,” the figure took another drag from their cigarette.

Ancom looked at them incredulously. “To keep them from taking over the country? Why else?”

“Who cares.” Another drag from the cigarette.

Jesus, what a downer.

“Doesn’t really matter,” they sighed.

“Of course it matters!” Ancom raised their voice.

The figure shook their head. “Not really.”

“What, are you a fascist yourself?”

They chuckled darkly. “No.”

“Then what’s your problem, dude?”

They looked sadly at Ancom, then behind them down the bridge. Ancom followed their gaze; it was a long way down. The dark water was like a spell, drawing them in. The scene was like from a dream, the dull monotone of the figure and the dull monotone of the slight waves below working in concert to drown out Ancom’s restlessness.

“Why would you even bother. There’s no reason to do anything.” They didn’t sound like they were trying to convince Ancom of something; Ancom imagined they heard something akin to pleading behind the words.

“Because it’s important. I don’t want fascists to ostracize and kill the people I care about.” Their words were rendered less aggressive as they stared down into the water.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s one poor soul less?”

“Every little bit counts.”

The figure scoffed. “Sure it does.”

Ancom didn’t respond, too fascinating was the deep water slowly coursing past them.

“Whatever. See ya,” the figure got up and left, tossing their cigarette bud down into the river.

“Yeah, you too,” Ancom muttered into the wind.

When Ancom trampled all over the apartment later that night, shutting the door too loudly behind them and clinking plates against each other as they attempted to make themselves a very late dinner or a very early breakfast, Commie had to hold herself back to not get up and make their meal for them. She didn’t trust a high Ancom with the task of serving themselves adequate food, and every night they clumsily made a mess of the kitchen the risk increased that they’d break a plate and hurt themselves.

Commie knew Ancom only ever did their chores whenever Ancap paid them to do hers; Ancap wasn’t as subtle as she thought she was being. Commie only let it slide because Nazi usually ended up doing more chores for ever dwindling payments. Nonetheless, Commie didn’t want to lose hope for the little anarchist traipsing through the hallway, nearly falling over, giggling and then disappearing into their room. She also admired them at least a little bit for not crumbling under her glare. Nazi folded like a piece of paper, and while Ancap outsourced her duties, she was still willing to pay money for it. Ancom only ever yelled at her and then ran away. Ancom ran away pretty often.

She shifted in bed, turning onto her back. There was just something about them. She knew she could get them to be a valuable member of society, if she just got them to follow some rules. All their bright visions of the future were worthless without a framework, and Commie could provide it. Have that bravery and spirit work in her favor.

She always half wished Ancom would crawl into her room again. Then they could whisper about philosophy in the dark, and Ancom could berate her for being too academic and she could listen to their sweet giggles echoing through the room.

As it stood, Ancom cursed from across the hallway, the previous noises making it clear they had spilled whatever it was that they had prepared for themselves.

Commie just listened.

Nazi was unreasonably angry at Ancom making noise two rooms over. Unreasonably so because she had been awake the entire time anyway; Nazi had been tossing and turning in her sheets the whole night. The last few nights, actually. Whenever she closed her eyes, images assaulted her mind, images and feelings she would much rather forget about. She was so frustrated; Commie had likely already forgotten about their encounter, considered it a stupid drunken fling. The filthy degenerate probably engaged in such acts all the time, but Nazi couldn’t stop thinking about it. She wasn’t happy with how it went, her back against the wall, waiting for Commie to do as she pleased.

At least she had gotten a couple of good phrases in. Commie hadn’t really answered, but Nazi could tell that her statements at the bar had gotten the socialist thinking; she wasn’t exactly pleased that she hadn’t technically won the bet, but if there had ever been an opportunity to plant a seed, it was that discussion. And she was pretty sure she had succeeded.

Cursing from across the hall. It conjured back the memory of her cursing that night. Oh, how she hated that she scurried away from Commie whenever the brunette entered the room, as if being in her vague vicinity was as degenerate as what had happened back then. God, she still felt so horribly filthy.

Another particularly loud noise from across the hallway. She had enough.

Tossing her covers to the side, Nazi got to her feet and barged into Ancom’s room.

“Would you keep it down?” she hissed. She was surprised to not find Ancom standing, but kneeling on the floor, trying to clean up spilled soy milk with their bare hands. They looked up at her with innocent, bloodshot eyes, seemingly confused on why Nazi was so angry. They looked so small.

Nazi felt heat rise to her cheeks as she looked down at the little freak; something pooled in her stomach, becoming so intense it was almost painful when Ancom actually meekly apologized.

“Now clean this up properly. With a paper towel,” Nazi ordered. Ancom crawled the first couple of steps to the kitchen before they got up. They fumbled around with the paper towel, getting rid of the milk offensively inefficiently; it infuriated Nazi, but the satisfaction of getting to watch them crawl around on all fours was worth watching the sad attempt at cleaning.

“Now get the fuck to bed and keep quiet.”

Ancom nodded eagerly, slipping onto their mattress before Nazi was out the door.

She went back to her own bed, heart beating into her throat. That...was the most thrilling thing she’d ever done. She knew her panties were damp, but she refused to reach down to make sure. That would be degenerate, and without the guise of alcohol to cover it.

New images in her head. Small hands clasped in hers, knees scraping over the floor, light and dark skin atop each other, and the delicious sound of the high pitched panting she remembered from the night of the party.

She definitely had to get rid of them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all know who Ancom met on the bridge; the most dangerous ideology of them all (not really but kinda)
> 
> Another short one, next one shall be spicier, though I have been suffering from writer's block. My mind just refuses to conjure words. Very silly. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy~


	9. Chapter 9

Ancap rushed from stand to stand to make sure everything was in order. The semester opening party was already starting and she’d be damned if she lost so much as a penny to the contractors not doing their job right.

If everything went according to plan, she’d make enough money tonight to afford another big investment; the payouts should cover both her loans and at least the first batch of taxes. She should in the very least be able to cover enough of her tracks to make it impossible for that inexperienced baby lawyer her cousin thought impressed her to find any gaps.

She checked her wristwatch after the last stand had convincingly assured her that they knew how to hand out alcohol and put money in a register. As if on cue, her cousin walked into the party, the lawyer on her arm. Their eyes swept across the room before landing on Ancap, quickly schooling her face into a friendly mask.

“Welcome! I see you’ve brought company?” she turned to the lawyer.

“Wouldn’t want to miss a good party,” she laughed, letting go of Libertarian, who sulked for a second before regaining her poise.

“I throw the best parties, if I say so myself,” Ancap flashed them her brightest smile.

The lawyer seemed to spot a friend of hers, excused herself and left the two of them alone for a second. Ancap didn’t say anything, just looked at her cousin appraisingly. The weakling crumbled way too quickly under her stare.

“I’m not giving you a chance to screw me over again.”

“Ah, right. Grandpa would be proud of you,” Ancap examined her nails.

“I don’t see what you mean,” she crossed her arms.

“You should be taking care of yourself.”

“It’s okay to work together with someone else.”

“Next thing you’re gonna tell me you support unions.”

Libertarian scoffed. “You’re the actual worst!”

“At least I don’t waste my precious time on some bland floozy like you’re doing.”

“Neoliberal isn’t bland,” Libertarian complained, “she’s just reasonable. Unlike you.”

“You need to commit, dude,” Ancap shook her head and left. It was going to be a long night; she really needed something to keep her alert during all of it. She searched through the crowd slowly building up in the hall, a neon pink beanie giving her target away. She made her way to the small group slouching on the floor of all places with determined strides, though she felt a little sick to the stomach. Her whole week had been pretty tense outside of the nice evening at the gun range. She could really use some relaxation. Sadly, it was rather doubtful her wiles would work on Ancom this time around.

It was really regrettable how the whole situation had gone. Sure, Ancap had been snappish, but Ancom was also overly sensitive. Their endless sniveling looks and truculent behavior got old very quickly and Ancap couldn’t pretend to give much of a shit after the first time they bolted out. Ancom was being pouty for their own sake.

She tapped them on the shoulder; their friends, all looking like absolute freak shows, ignored her as Ancom jumped up and took a step away from them.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ancap asked, winning smile on her face as always.

Ancom shrugged. “What do you want?”

“So forward.”

“I know you only engage with people if you’ve got something to gain,” Ancom snarled.

“True. I’m here for something to keep me up,” she brushed some of her wig back behind her ear.

Ancom searched their pockets, pulling out some loose pills they’d had in there. Ancap raised her brows momentarily, but nodded. She gave Ancom the money, then quickly threw in one of the pills. She stuck out her tongue, a small callback to the last party; Ancom didn’t seem nostalgically amused, instead going back to their circle with just slightly watery eyes. What a wimp.

She let her eyes course over the party again. Ancom, Nazi, and Commie were all in opposite corners of the room; good. The further apart they stayed, the better. Ancap had no desire for neither fights nor allegiances. She wasn’t even sure which was worse, Nazi trying to shoot Ancom as she definitely would if tempted, or Ancom and Commie fraternizing and forming a team against her. Or, as just came to her mind, Nazi and Commie fraternizing, deciding to shoot Ancom together and _then_ unionizing against her.

Shaking herself of the thought, she stalked over to where her cousins, including Libertarian, were sitting, together with the lawyer. Libertarian's transparent attempt to hide from her behind the dark haired law student was pathetic at best and doomed to fail at worst, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let Libertarian believe she was safe.

“Who wants something to help party?” she asked the round, pulling out Ancom’s pills, the suggestion met immediately with enthusiastic cajoling; even the lawyer joined in. Libertarian shot her a suspicious glance. She winked.

What fun she’d have.

Nazi knew she was cute. Honey blonde hair falling softly down her shoulders, baby blue eyes straight from a picture book, and a bone structure that was both resolute and femininely rounded at the same time, as was the rest of her body – and yet, she seemed to have a harder time than most in acquiring a worthwhile partner.

She was struck by the thought once more as she sat amidst a new batch of cardboard cutout frat guys yelling over each other to look like the biggest gorilla around. She wasn’t the only girl in the group this time; all of campus seemed to be in attendance tonight and she had quite the competition. Somehow, the other girls, objectively inferior to her in looks, all relatively quickly found a boy to wrap around their fingers, flirting with them for what looked like it was going to be the rest of the night. She had to admit that these women had something light and easy to them, and if Nazi wasn’t one thing, it was light and easy. As much as she tried to soften her steely gaze for this exercise, she knew disgust flitted across her expression whenever her eyes grazed the obligatory ethnic boy in the round. Ancap had suggested that that probably made people uncomfortable.

She rested her chin in her hand as she listened to the three men sitting near her talk about sports. One of them pointed out the patriotism inherent to global sports events; what a hot take. She had to repress the eyeroll.

“They’re like proxy wars,” she tried to comment lightheartedly. The others laughed, but it sounded a tad awkward. She wasn’t even sure at this point whether she said something too edgy or too out of place.

They continued their talk, and she had to bite her tongue and bide her time; the more they talked, even if it was vapid political nonsense, the more likely it was that one of them would reveal his power level. And then she’d strike.

“Is this seat free?” purred someone from beside her. Nazi turned, watching in horror as the girl from her classes sat on the spot one of the frat boys had cleared for her by moving closer to Nazi. Their eyes met and she put on her most threatening glare. It did nothing to deter her neighbor, smiling at her with her sharp teeth and icy, almost gray eyes.

She was so busy being annoyed about the new arrival she almost missed one of the men – Stan, she thought she remembered – reference Pepe. Not ideal or unambiguous, but getting in the right direction. Target acquired.

Ancom and their friends had left the inside portion of the party for the campfire someone had erected outside; this was much more what Ancom envisioned their parties like: Surrounded by friends and high on everything each of them brought along.

On the other side of the campfire, they spotted Commie. Following the most childish instinct, they stuck out their tongue at her. Stupid statist.

Commie just tilted her head and turned back to her engineering friends. Ancom hated how pretty she looked tonight. It was the same outfit from the last party – did she only have the one? Was Ancap the only one who had multiple sets of clothes in their shared flat? – and looked just as good as last time, especially in the alluring flicker of the fire. The black string tied around her neck like a choker made Ancom want to smother their face in it.

“That your roomie?” Progressive asked, leisurely taking a drag from her joint before offering it to Ancom.

They took a long, hard drag and handed it back. “Yup.”

“Let me guess – the authoritarian who keeps ordering you around.”

“They all order me around,” Ancom snivelled.

“I thought the fascist only teased you?” Progressive righted her bandanna.

Ancom shrugged. “Ordering me to clean, ordering me to study, ordering me to disappear into thin air I guess.” They gave a tired sigh. “But that’s Commie. She was actually kinda nice at first.”

“So was your landlady, right?”

Ancom felt a little sick to the stomach at the thought. They had stupidly believed that their two precious times with Ancap had been special. They had even been willing to give Ancap some time to sort out her business, but she didn’t seem to give half of a shit about Ancom. That really, really hurt.

So did Commie’s weird turnaround from being kind to commanding them like they were some kind of dog. Over their dead body.

They shivered.

Leaving behind their half-aware friends, Ancom treaded around the fire, coming to a halt behind Commie. She turned to face them.

“I don’t want you to order me around anymore. You used to be nice.”

Commie rose to her feet, uncomfortably towering over Ancom. “Let’s take a walk.”

Another stupid command. Ancom hated themselves for following.

“What do you do when you’re out during the night?” Commie asked into the cool night air. They were walking away from the party, the noise decreasing with each step.

“I dunno. Hang out with friends, look for fascists.”

“And? Do you find any?”

Ancom furrowed their brows. They were getting cold. “Sometimes we do. Not always.”

“We’re not so different, you and I. We want the same things.”

“I don’t want to be ordered around. I’m not a filthy bootlicker.”

Commie sighed. “We both want equality and justice. We just disagree on how to get there.”

“Are you going to tell me about theory again?” Ancom whined.

Commie couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Maybe I was. But, Ancom,” she turned and laid a hand on their shoulder; it was warm and lovely and Ancom leaned into it. “I do what I do because I care. Because I want to be nice. You’ve seen Nazi; without a strong hand to discipline her, she’ll wreak havoc on our diorama of a society.”

“I’d smash her with my bat,” Ancom swung their imaginary bat as they spoke.

“Isn’t that almost more cruel than letting her live and merely forcing her to follow your rules?”

Commie looked so serious. Ancom didn’t like it; they felt sick to the stomach again. Ancap and her lies washed over them, lies of happy freedom, and they wanted to punch her in the face for not liking them back.

They felt themselves be covered by something warm. Commie had thrown her oversized red hoodie over their shoulders. “You look cold.”

Ancom instinctively wrapped it around themselves.

“My friends threw me out because I was too radical for them,” Ancom admitted. They didn’t even know why.

Commie exhaled sharply. “That happens often to people with convictions.”

“And now I’m here.”

They wrapped the hoodie even tighter around themselves, as if it would somehow keep them safe.

“Trapped between someone who only wants me for my drugs and a fascist.” They looked to the side. The grassy floor was mesmerizing.

“And you.”

Commie said nothing.

“Why can’t you be...why can’t you like me?” Their voice was strained and it was embarrassing to start crying in front of Commie but they were still kinda high and honestly they got to cry if they fucking wanted to.

“I do. I want what’s best for you.”

“No, you don’t,” Ancom took a step backwards.

“Yes, I do. You have to believe me,” Commie followed them.

Ancom hated themselves for being so gullible, but they looked up hopefully. They just didn’t want to be alone anymore, alone in a hostile environment.

It wasn’t really sudden, or unexpected, but Ancom almost jumped back in surprise when Commie pulled them in for a soft, tender kiss.

It was very different from the short encounters with Ancap; the single kiss was drawn out and lovely, Ancom could take their sweet time to explore, to squeeze closer into Commie and stand on their tiptoes to have better reach. Commie snaked her hand around their waist, causing Ancom to moan into the kiss. They hadn’t gotten a chance to release their tension since the last time with Ancap.

Everything was soft and slow and beautiful and Ancom didn’t even know how they had ended up here, kissing Commie in the campus park, rubbing themselves against her just to increase contact.

When Commie let go, Ancom whined, helplessly trying to drag the taller woman down by her collar.

“Someone’s eager,” Commie laughed, keeping upright.

Ancom buried their head in her chest. “Just do it, Commie,” they pouted.

That made her tense up. “Let’s get back to the fire, come on. We’ll have enough time for this when we’re at home, in bed. I’d like to take my sweet time with you,” she leaned down for another kiss.

They returned to the fire, finding Commie’s study pals and Ancom’s friends having merged their groups. Commie found the image of the hippies handing the engineers joints symbolically uplifting, holding Ancom even closer to her as they sat down. Ancom barely acknowledged their peer’s light teasing, perfectly content to enjoy Commie’s warmth.

Nazi felt like she was about to explode.

She was going to _kill_ that girl.

She had foiled every single attempt Nazi had made at flirting with probably-Stan. Nazi tried to gauge the waters, making a quiet edgy joke into his ear to draw him in with the feeling of exclusivity, but the stupid bitch had listened in and loudly laughed about it, making the situation awkward instead of romantic. No matter what Nazi said, the grating singsong of Homonationalist interrupted her or tore her out of her thoughts.

The worst part was that her classmate wasn’t subtle at _all_. Where Nazi danced around the subject, pushing and pulling gently to assess the group dynamics and how far she could reasonably take it to still have a chance to score, Homonationalist just blatantly spurted out rhetoric so obviously far right she might as well have set the ethnic boy at their table on fire. If Nazi made people slightly uncomfortable because of her micro-gestures, Homonationalist made people want to run away.

And they did. Slowly but surely, the group they were sitting with moved further and further away from them, until they were barely involved in the general conversation; the boy who had originally been trapped between the two of them had up and left to instead flank a whore at the other side of the table a long time ago.

Nazi was seething. She was so frustrated that she almost didn’t notice her classmate shifting ever closer to her as the others shifted away.

“Will you back off?” she hissed, snapping around to face her. The harsh tone worked, the other girl shuffling a bit further down the bench, nervously playing with her light blonde curls. She was blushing and bowed just slightly, looking up at Nazi with big eyes. It would have reminded her of Ancom, but Nazi wasn’t stupid; she sensed the lewd desire radiating off of her. Homonationalist was like a kitten tapping and scratching at her in the vague hope that she’d react.

Unwilling to let the vulgar bedroom eyes get the better of her, Nazi harrumphed and left the table, stomping away to get some fresh air. Homonationalist was right on her heels. She tried to ignore her, keeping her steps brisk as she entered the campus park; the invigorating smell of a campfire wafted through the air, and Nazi slowed her pace momentarily to look at the source. She only barely registered Ancom sitting there before her classmate ran right into her back. Without hesitation, she swiveled around and grabbed her by the throat, strategically moving the both of them behind a corner and out of sight. She slammed Homonationalist into the wall.

“What exactly is your problem?” she growled. She wanted to hear the obvious answer out loud.

Homonationalist looked from side to side, hands limply hovering at hip level. “I- I’m with you! I’m not trying to out you or anything, I agree wholeheartedly!” she sputtered, clearly having trouble talking with Nazi’s hand around her neck.

Nazi squeezed harder, eliciting a small choke; she liked that a lot, but nearly had to throw up when she felt goosebumps spread over the other girl’s skin.

“Don’t waste your time with these stupid boys,” Homonationalist croaked, struggling for air. “You’re the only one I know with actual,” she had to cough, “principles.”

Nazi leaned closer; shivers from under her grip, followed by another wave of nausea. “I’m not a repugnant degenerate like you,” she hissed into her ear.

She got a quiet whimper in return. Homonationalist tried to open her mouth to speak, but Nazi had enough of her bitchy annoying talking voice. She bit into her ear, reveling in the taste of her skin and the – quite literally – strangled squeal in response.

Nazi released her neck, the latter dropping to the floor, spitting and coughing. Maybe she had been a little too rough. The muffled noise of the party spurring her on, Nazi used her foot to lift Homonationalist’s chin up to face her. Her pale skin, rendered nearly white in the faint sheen of the moon, looked more sickly than triumphant like it should, and the fear- but lustful expression staring up at her in equal parts disgusted her and turned her on. At least Homonationalist didn’t have inferior genes.

She winced at the thought, but quickly covered it up by commanding her classmate to sit on her knees. The other girl did as she was told, obediently getting to her knees and opening her mouth. Nazi could see the grin hidden behind the gesture, but didn’t pay it any attention.

She wasn’t nearly as inebriated as the last time she engaged in such filth; unlike certain roommates, she liked having a clear mind most, if not all of the time. As it was, her feelings couldn’t be dulled by the muffler that was alcohol, and her anger and revulsion weighed much more heavy than last time, in spite (or because) of her physical reaction to Homonationalist enthusiastically letting her fuck her face. She sneered vile nothings down at the girl at her feet; no matter how far she took it, her words only seemed to encourage Homonationalist, who began to distastefully moan into her.

Nazi grabbed a fistful of her pretty curls, ignoring the pained hiss from beneath her. “Degenerate whore,” she snarled. Homonationalist nodded eagerly, meeting her eyes a last time; the gesture was enough to bring Nazi over the edge.

She hadn’t even come down from her high properly before she forcefully threw her classmate from her. Homonationalist sprawled on the grass, making breathy noises Nazi refused to categorize as moans, and shot her a lurid grin.

She ran off, fearing that if she waited any longer, either Homonationalist would say something, or Nazi’s thinly veiled desire to beat the shit out of her would overtake her.

Ancap shushed a hopelessly drunk and sad Libertarian; she had navigated them both into a dark corner in the park so that the latter could throw up in peace, but as it so happened, the corner of choice turned out to be occupied. When her cousin motioned to complain about being shushed, Ancap clasped her hand over her mouth and pricked up her ears. Some girl was getting it on on the other side of the concrete block they were standing at.

“ _Degenerate whore._ ”

Ah. So it was Nazi. She had thought she recognized the unholy grunting from a few nights prior. Some rumbling, stomping off, and somebody else giggling unsettlingly to themselves.

“Alright, go,” Ancap removed her hand, and as if on command, Libertarian bent over and vomited into the grass. Ancap took care she didn’t hit her hair.

“You really don’t handle alcohol well, my dear,” Ancap commented, vaguely fondling the light brown curls in her hands.

“I guess I...I didn’t build up your tolerance to,” she sputtered up stomach acid, “poisonous substances.”

Ancap hummed, considering to just let go of her cousin’s hair, see how she’d like being left alone now if she was going to be testy.

Another hefty heave. Maybe she should have cooled it on the complementary drugs.

“You...you’re the reason I drank so much in the first place!” Libertarian accused between heavy breaths.

“Oh, really? Why this time? Because I threw a party?”

More vomiting, less violent this time.

“I’m really getting sick – pardon the pun – of constantly being accused of everything. Don’t do business if you suck at it. You have the option to just leave it to the grown ups.”

Libertarian just breathed, still hunched over.

“And call off your silly lawyer while you’re at it. Stand up for yourself.”

“Neoliberal said I have a case,” she got up unsteadily, having to lean against the wall to keep from falling over. “You can’t just screw people over like that.”

“I didn’t screw you over, you’re responsible for your own actions,” Ancap crossed her arms as she let go of the hair.

“You can’t just,” Libertarian paused for a second, clearly dizzy, “lay traps and then...and then blame people for falling into them.”

Ancap rolled her eyes.

“Just like your dumb wigs. You don’t actually look that good without them.”

Ancap raised her brows. “It’s called advertising, honey.”

Libertarian swallowed thickly, still holding onto that wall. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Ancap tilted her head. “For what?”

“I didn’t want to call you ugly,” she said quietly.

“You're going to have to think of something more original and less irrelevant if you wanna hurt my feelings,” she cordially put her arm around Libertarian, steadying her as they made their way back to the party. They walked past the campfire; it was Ancap’s turn to swallow when she spotted Ancom looking half asleep on Commie’s lap, playing absentmindedly with her hair. Their eyes met. Commie sneered at her and Ancap repressed the desire to sneer back, instead making a lewd gesture at her. There was at least a small satisfaction to be gained from Commie’s face turning into an offended frown.

The wheels were already turning in Ancap’s head though. The last few impressions of the party could surely be mixed and matched into something profitable. She just had to figure out how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just using some direct quotes from Leftist Unity here because they made me feel things. Also, I like to imagine Ancap is the oldest of the bunch; she's at least the oldest of team extreme TM (I think)
> 
> I had a bit of a rough time writing this one for no reason in particular; I hope the sentences don't run on too long or anything.


	10. Chapter 10

Ancom didn’t really remember how they ended up in bed with Commie, the wall pressed to their back; neither they nor the brunette were willing to let go of the other’s lips, even if Ancom already felt theirs swell up and bruise from the assault. Commie’s hot hands snaked under the borrowed hoodie, the skin on skin contact making Ancom mewl into the kiss. The hands were large and strong, gripping them and their flesh tightly whenever they made even a small noise.

Ancom had their arms around Commie’s neck, holding her tightly; they had to let go in surprise when Commie pushed one of her legs between theirs. The sudden fiction was heavenly and Ancom could do nothing but throw their head back and rub themselves against the leg, clawing their fingers into Commie’s dress.

_I don’t have the time or the energy right now to take care of you._

The rogue memory killed the rising action of Ancom’s orgasm; their formally frenetic movements steadily slowed down as shame crawled up their throat.

A soft hand stroked the back of their head, ruffling through their short black locks. “Did you finish?”

Ancom violently shook their head, conjuring up a headache. Commie angled them upwards and drowned them in another languid kiss while stroking down her hands to pull Ancom’s hips closer, urging them on. They resisted for a few seconds, but quickly succumbed, letting the sweet friction teeter them over the edge. They came with a shuddering breath, buried in Commie’s chest.

“I- I’m sorry,” they whispered, loath to let themselves be separated from the warm body.

They heard the furrowed brows more than they saw them. “What for?” Commie kissed the top of their head before flipping them over so she crouched on top of them.

“Finishing so fast?” Ancom suggested, still out of breath.

“It’s not like we’re done yet,” Commie trailed her tongue up Ancom’s neck, eliciting hushed whimpers.

“We’re not?” Ancom found the voice to ask, quickly biting their lip as they felt their shorts being removed and tossed off of the bed. Soft kisses were placed along their collarbone, but their legs instinctively snapped shut when Commie’s fingers ventured too close to their center. Patiently, Commie applied soft pressure to spread their legs again, gaining access to their insides. Ancom gasped, arching their back against the rocking fingers, and soon a string of curses dropped out of their mouth, getting louder with each thrust.

Their heart beat into their chest as they stared, open mouthed, at Commie, looking down, focused on her task, but full of affection at the same time. They kissed again, even deeper than before, muffling Ancom’s desperate whining for release. They wrapped their legs around Commie, trying to merge their bodies together, whimpering when Commie drew away from the kiss.

“Do you want more?”

Ancom eagerly nodded, crying out when Commie complied.

“Please- Commie, _fuck_ , I- please, _ah_ -”

Nazi wished she had woken up from the blaring of her early morning alarm, urging her to pack her things and get to the train station, but no. She was already awake; wide awake as she had been ever since returning to her apartment.

Frustrated and desperately running from her repulsive rendezvous in the dark corner, she had hidden in her room and quickly gone to bed, hoping peaceful slumber would ease her mind. She had been tossing and turning for two hours when she heard her lefty roommates come home, laughing and tripping as she was used to from the mongrel by now, in turn paying them no further heed. Grimacing when she heard them get into the same room – one that shared a wall with hers, no less – she had at least hoped that they were also planning on sleeping.

She had been _entirely_ wrong.

The pathetic _oohs_ and _ahs_ she was bombarded with from the other side of the wall had to be some kind of war crime. Ancom’s high pitched whining went straight through the pillow she had attempted to cover her ears with. She nearly started crying when, after their long and loud fucking session seemed to _finally_ die down, she very clearly heard Ancom asking “a _gain?_ ” through the wall, followed by more squealing.

When the two lovebirds were finally, finally, really done, they still insisted on muttering among themselves for another hour. They finally stopped talking ten minutes before her alarm was scheduled to ring.

_Why didn’t you just tell them to keep it down? Or shoot them like you always threaten?_

The pitiful noises from the night replaying in her head, she sadly knew exactly why she hadn’t just intervened, but she’d be damned if she admitted it.

Rolling out of bed completely exhausted, Nazi slid her heavy limbs into her uniform, groaning when she thought of having to face her stupid loudmouthed colleague in just a few minute’s time.

Dragging herself to the kitchen, she pretended to not be surprised at Ancap already sitting there and sipping her tea, wearing both sunglasses _and_ her fedora just to keep out the sunlight.

“Morning, sunshine,” Ancap lifted her cup at Nazi making herself some toast. Nazi waved her off; she had honestly thought, and hoped, that meeting her roommate before her shift had been a one time occurrence.

She stared at the toaster in a trance, only waking up when the bread jumped into her face.

“Slept well?” Ancap asked, raising her brows as Nazi began eating the toast with nothing on it.

“Let me guess. You heard nothing at _all_ last night,” she quipped.

Ancap chuckled, setting down her tea to pull out a cigarette. “It’s not like I’m deaf, I just don’t really mind.”

“Oh yeah,” Nazi mocked her, “Why would anyone mind loud and wildly pornographic noises dominating their apartment in the middle of the night? Whatever, just let the disgusting degenerates fuck like rabbits for _three hours_ nonstop, I don’t mind! It’s fine! Everyone can just do whatever they want! Ey yo nothing matters, and if people fornicate all over your bed it’s totally cool, _dude_.”

Ancap had to laugh properly at Nazi’s sad attempt at mimicking what she probably perceived to be rapper-movements; it was the least cool thing Ancap had ever seen. She had to set down her tea to keep from spilling, bursting out into another fit of giggles when Nazi angrily stuffed the dry toast into her mouth.

“Someone sounds _jealous_ ,” she lilted. Nazi’s expression morphing into something dangerous made Ancap reconsider her blunt approach, and she quickly changed the topic. “First payment for your new rifle is due today, don’t forget. Interest marks up if you’re late.”

In hindsight not the best thing to bring up to an already furious Nazi, but Ancap got lucky. The tall blonde just nodded irritatedly before storming out of the apartment to make the money Ancap would be pocketing. Doing deals with Nazi was much more challenging than she had expected; there was always that latent threat of violence. People like her had no respect for the NAP if it stood even remotely in their way.

As she heard the building’s door faintly swing closed outside, Ancap decided she should take some precautions; as hot-headed as Nazi was, it would probably be best for their business relations if Ancap knew a little bit more about her. It was unnecessary to sneak around with Nazi out of the house and the leftists blissfully asleep, but Ancap always walked on feathery feet on principle; she found stomping around like her roommates preferred lacked style.

Nazi hadn’t even locked her door; good. Ancap didn’t like enlisting her crazy cousin more than she absolutely had to. She didn’t want to wake up one day with Anarcho-monarchy knocking at her door and demanding all the vacant promises Ancap had made actually be fulfilled. Whatever that would entail.

The room was dark and the blinds shut, no surprises there. On the single desk fabrics lay strewn about, a sowing machine clearly acting as the centerpiece. Lecture notes and scripts laid abandoned on the floor next to the bed, covered in dark blue sheets, as well as a very small collection of cute, but stuffy shoes. A large vintage map took up a majority of the front wall, so vintage that the borders were drawn on wrong; there was no date to be found, but Ancap was pretty sure Germany didn’t have those two little tendrils tacked onto it nowadays.

The wall at the head of the bed was covered with something else: a flag, smaller than the map, but still undeniably pompous. Ancap shook her head. Nazi seemed keen on keeping the full extent of her beliefs private, so why did she have this huge beacon that would invariably make people hate her hanging over her bed? What did she tell the boys she took home?

Oh, well. Not Ancap’s problem, at least not as long as Nazi stayed solvent.

On that note, time to look for where the fascist stored her rifle. Ancap put on her leather gloves, vaguely paranoid that Nazi actually checked her room for fingerprints, and opened the single closet in the room; the gun stood badly hidden behind a small handful of dresses in various shades of blue, all dangling awkwardly from their hangers. Ancap pulled out one of them, a particularly frilly number, and had to suppress a chuckle. These were handmade, as a quick check for a tag revealed, and most of them not very well. As she snooped through the closet, she did notice that they got prettier from right to left. That seemed to be Nazi’s learning curve on full display; it was a mystery to Ancap why she didn’t just throw the old, obviously inferior ones away.

Leaving the dresses be, Ancap wandered over to the table with the sowing machine, just to see what Nazi’s most recent attempts had yielded. She picked up a white and blue piece made of rayon, quietly whistling to herself in appreciation. Especially compared to those first few Frankenstein attempts, it looked like it at least _could_ be very fetching on a person.

Lifting it up had revealed the wood of the desk underneath; Ancap blanched. Scribbled with pen, marker, pencil, and what looked like a knife carving into the table were the thoughts and feelings of a madman.

From _tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock…,_ over crude drawings of faces, helmets, knives and guns (so many guns!), to abstract shapes that might as well be dogwhistles Ancap just didn’t know about, the table oozed psychosis. Between the ugly figures were some prettier, even if equally badly made drawings of dresses and bows and Ancap immediately felt dirty for just seeing it. She quickly replaced the dress and took a step back from the surely cursed desk. It was now that she noticed that among the fabrics laid bands, made from what looked like scrap fabrics with cute animal patterns on it.

The whole thing was so childish, yet unsettling, Ancap took a second step back. She looked at the flag looming over Nazi’s head whenever she slept. Another step back. She spotted a cutesy piggy bank gleaming out from underneath the bed. Another step back, this time running into the door, and just in time, too. Commie tried to open the door into her, but Ancap quickly regained her senses and pushed back, slithering out of the door and pulling it closed behind her.

“I thought you were against meddling in people’s business?” Commie stated, sounding vaguely gloating.

“I’m allowed to know who I do business with,” Ancap rationalized, but her voice still sounded slightly shaken. Commie probably thought she was nervous because she got caught.

“You shouldn’t do business with fascists,” Commie shook her head and retreated, sauntering over to the kitchen.

Ancap swallowed, trailing after her after a moment.

“But I don’t really mind either way. You two can ruin each other all you want.” Commie poured herself a glass of water, then reached up to pull some aspirin from the topmost shelf. “Either you drive her into poverty and kill her pride, or she kills _you_. That’s the way your unjust ideas work, no?”

Commie’s smug tone was so much more grating than that of the others. At least it helped Ancap snap back into reality and out of that unearthly room.

“Right, you probably feel pretty good now that your constant and undying attention to Ancom paid off, huh?” she began, examining her nails. Commie just hummed and continued making what looked like it would be breakfast in bed for a very hungover Ancom.

“They appreciate kindness.”

“Uh huh.” Ancap pretended she was unbothered by the way those words stung; she had been kind, too. “They don’t appreciate being woken up in the morning, though.”

Commie shrugged. “They’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. And, did they come early this time, too?”

Commie’s head snapped up. “What?”

“That’s how they were with me. Kind of annoying, that,” Ancap continued nonchalantly. Commie narrowed her eyes at her. “In their defense, it was their first time with me. And the cutesy noises make up for it, right?”

“Shut up, _kulak_ ,” Commie spat, and stomped out of the room with her tray.

“Careful with that foreign nonsense around Nazi!” Ancap called after her.

Commie decided to ignore her in favor of getting back to her lover. She set down the tray by the bedside, just out of Ancom’s sight; they’d get the nice gesture if they played nice themselves.

She crouched down on the floor by the bed as well, gently stirring Ancom awake, ignoring their steadily more unhappy grumbling.

“ _What_?” they moaned sharply. Their insolence was cute, but it, too, would have to move aside for some more discipline in the future.

But right now, Ancom’s trying to hide their sleepy eyes in the pillow was still _very_ cute, and Commie couldn’t resist leaning forward and kissing their neck and running her fingers through their hair. That calmed them down, soft purring filling the room. Commie nearly lost focus, so strong became the urge to crawl on top of them again and make those purrs louder and more desperate.

“Wake up, little kitty,” she sighed into their ear. She sat back on her haunches again. “Kitty? Or _Anar_ kitty?”

Now Ancom had to giggle, slowly rising up to face Commie after all. They were such a sight, dark, smooth skin still flushed from the night before, black short locks ruffled, and that drowsy look just tempting Commie to get back into bed with them. Commie just had to kiss them before the interrogation.

“I talked to Ancap,” she said quietly as she pulled away.

Ancom curled up further into a ball. They were so _small_. “Yeah?”

That sounded like nervousness. “She implied some...things.”

“What things?” Ancom furrowed their brows and rubbed their eyes, only now making an effort to wake up fully.

“About the two of you. I’m sure she was just riling me up, the lying snake-”

Ancom shook their head. “No, we had like, a, a thing last week.”

Commie’s face fell. She tried to suppress the snarl, but, judging by Ancom shifting a little backwards, wasn’t very successful.

“It was just, I wanted some drugs and she offered, and it just kinda happened. What else did she tell you?”

“You slept with _her_? That dishonorable slime?” Commie’s tone dripped with acid. So it wasn’t just Nazi who could be disgusted.

Ancom looked from side to side, not answering.

“You’re hiding something.”

“Don’t slut shame me.” Their voice was small.

“What are you hiding?” Commie gave them a chance to tell her by their own free will that they had given their first time to Ancap instead of her.

No answer.

“Don’t keep secrets from me, Ancom,” her voice was dangerously low now.

“She paid me to do it. But only the first time!” Ancom spilled.

Commie stared, eyes wide open. _What?_

Ancom, clearly terrified of the repulsed mask, sputtered on, hoping that more words would make things better. “The second time, I paid her, not the other way around!” they tried.

Commie wasn’t sure whether she wanted to strangle Ancap, Ancom, or just throw up all over the floor. She decided on none of the above and simply stood up, tray in hand.

“What’s that?” Ancom asked, confused and hopeful.

Commie took two steps to her trashcan and dumped the contents of the tray into it.

“Get out of my room. I have to think about this.”

Ancom fled quickly. That’s one thing they were at least good at. Running away.

Ancap had to repress the smug bark of laughter trying to escape her when she heard the apartment door slam as it so often did. She nearly snorted out her tea when she then heard Commie angrily kick over her trashcan and curse to herself. Stupid socialist bastard got what was coming for her; Ancom would go to their silly anarchist friends, cry their eyes out, come back home with a red face and high on everything they were able to scrounge up, and then where would they go? Not Commie. Definitely not Nazi.

Ancap shivered as her mind flashed back to the room and that desk. She grimaced. _Just don’t think about it. Just forget it_.

Maybe they’d be stupid enough to try and cry to Posadist or any of the other neighbors, but that would only get them a bad high and a weird techno song.

She took a long drag out of her cigarette. Her phone vibrated; a text from Libertarian. Whatever she wanted, Ancap was confident that she had things under control now with the extra revenue from last night, and the lucky payout that just so happened to take place right when her cousin had been throwing up. It was probably a good idea to not be alone with Commie right now anyway, so she might as well make Libertarian happy if a coffee date was all it took.

Unlike Nazi, she locked the door to her room and left the apartment, making sure to listen to Commie’s pathetic cursing one last time as she walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why the idea of Ancom always coming early is so appealing to me, but that's just the world we live in. Also, shoutout to smallandsleepy's Libunity fic which infatuated me with the idea of the apartment walls being thin as all hell and everyone always hearing everything the others do.
> 
> Also, Commie being a police state of a girlfriend is clearly implied canon.


	11. Chapter 11

Out in the hallway, Ancap waited for the elevator, checking her golden wristwatch. A door creaked open behind her and she snapped around, hand on her small handgun tucked safely in the back of her dress pants; she’d be damned if Commie got to kill her just because she was smaller and skinnier.

It wasn’t their apartment door that opened though, but their neighbor’s. Out stepped a tall, pale girl with a mane of light blonde curls streaming down her shoulders and back.

“You live with Nazi, right?”

Her voice was sultry and flamboyant despite her attempt to speak quietly. Ancap noticed her sharp features and long, bony fingers didn’t quite match her sizable chest; she had the air of a sexy model merged with a skeleton and Ancap couldn’t for the life of her tell whether she found her extremely attractive or repulsive.

“So what if I do?” she pushed down her sunglasses a bit to get a better look. Not much changed.

“Did- did she say something?”

Ancap caught on. She had thought she heard that voice before. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Leaning more towards talking about degeneracy than racism, though.” She wasn’t entirely sure if baiting this girl was a good idea, but she’d definitely try.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Something more specific maybe?”

“You’re gonna have to pay for anything extra,” Ancap timed her words with the arrival of the elevator, motioning to step into it.

“How much?” the blonde stepped forward, stopping herself just before grabbing Ancap’s arm.

“Hmm,” Ancap pondered, theatrically rubbing her chin. “For fifty I’ll tell you what she said with insider commentary, but for a one time payment of hundred and fifty I can also report back what she says tonight _and_ tell you where she works.”

“What are you, a Jew?” the woman spat as if merely saying the word was already disgusting. “I could also just follow her to work.”

Ancap opened her mouth to quip something along the lines of that mission involving a very high risk of getting shot, but she was interrupted.

“Save it, I don’t haggle. It’s beneath me.”

“Ah.”

“Wait a second,” she hopped back inside her apartment. Ancap checked her wristwatch again as she held the elevator doors open. She’d be late.

“Here,” the woman irreverently threw the money at her.

Ancap bent over and picked it up. No shame in taking other people’s cash, even if it was from the floor.

“So?” Her voice was shaky.

“Relax,” Ancap took her sweet time to count the money, stuffing it into her inner jacket pocket when she was done. “Nazi seemed very distraught. I’m pretty sure she didn’t sleep at all last night and she was even pissier than usual about other people in the flat hooking up.”

“Really? Do you think that has something to do with me?”

Oh, this lady sounded _very_ eager.

“Well, I wouldn’t really know about that, but I do assume something happened at that party last night. She didn’t bring home a guy this time, either. Or at least, he wasn’t there anymore when I came in.”

It was getting more sad than amusing to see how the woman swooned. _Imagine having those kinds of feelings for Nazi. Yuck._

“Whatever happened, it rattled her.”

Her long fingers practically dug into the doorframe as she hung on every word Ancap said.

“Emotionally stirred her, even.” _You’re being overly cruel now_. “And she works at the train station just outside of town. I believe her uniform could be considered quite fetching.”

The taller woman seemed to regain her senses, standing upright again and expression rather abruptly turning into a sneer. “See you for the rest tonight, rat,” she snarled, turning on her heel and slamming the door.

Ancap exhaled heavily as she rode down the elevator. Her cousin was going to be a welcome change of pace; she wasn’t completely insane unlike everyone else Ancap recently got to interact with. At least, this cousin wasn’t; they all lived in the building, but Ancap gave most of her relatives a wide berth. The only halfway presentable one was extremely irritating to her, since she always imitated her as if they were still twelve. She wasn’t even sure if it was a joke anymore or just her personality.

Arriving at the coffee shop, she smirked when Libertarian didn’t get up to greet her. She wore her oversized Hollywood sunglasses on top of shielding her eyes from the sunlight with her hand, and her body more slouched than sat in the romantically fragile chair.

“Is someone hungover?” Ancap sat with her, teasing lilt in her voice. No respite for the weak, that would be unjust.

“Guess why,” Libertarian ground out.

“I could’ve also waited until afternoon,” Ancap suggested, ordering her latte.

“This isn’t my idea. Neoliberal said she found something.” She rubbed her temples, hunching over the small table. “How are you so chipper?”

“The trick is to never actually end your high.”

Libertarian rolled her eyes behind the sunglasses, wincing right after. “You just have the money for constantly buying cocaine.”

Ancap shrugged. “Same difference.”

Neoliberal arrived a few minutes later, fashionably late like last time. Ancap had difficulty in repressing her grimace as she and her cousin exchanged air kisses after Neoliberal had shaken Ancap’s hand. The lawyer was a little overly friendly with everyone; that had already annoyed Ancap at the party, making friends with whoever vaguely looked her direction with her bright smile and ‘authentic’ demeanor. Watching her cousin’s betrayed pouting whenever the lawyer spoke to someone Libertarian didn’t like was the only thing that had made it halfway bearable.

“Let’s get to business, right?” Neoliberal chirped, pulling out a stack of papers.

Ancom was wandering the streets, again. That was kind of all they did. Aimlessly roam the streets, take drugs, occasionally get into fights. How fulfilling.

A pedestrian shot them a disapproving look. They blew the smoke of their joint in their direction, vaguely hoping the pedestrian would start a fight. They just screwed up their nose and continued walking. Disappointing.

Feeling their stomach grumble, Ancom made a sharp right into the lone grocery store in town. They quickly checked their pockets for cash, coming up empty. Stealing it was.

The store was relatively empty, but the shelves were close enough together to make it easy to pick up items undetected. They pretended to search the chips selection for something specific as they hid a can of peanuts under their hoodie. Not really their hoodie, but Commie’s.

Refusing to acknowledge the wetness coming from their eyes, Ancom moved on to the small display of vegetables, examining the cucumbers while stealing an apple and a bell pepper; you couldn’t be choosy when shoplifting.

They walked out of the store unmolested, keeping their step relaxed and even; the trick was to never take anything wrapped in cellophane or other materials prone to loud rustling. Then you could jiggle them around under your oversized clothes to keep them invisible without having to worry about the noise.

Navigating on pure instinct, Ancom arrived at the park they used to meet Ancap at before they'd moved in with her. A wave of nostalgia overcame them and they hesitantly lowered themselves on their usual bench as they pulled out their meager pickings from the store. They were much too used to eating scraps.

As they sat and munched on the salted peanuts, regretting not having taken the mixed nuts that had been right next to them, they almost felt the presence of Ancap sitting on the other side of the bench, legs wide open, left foot resting on her right knee. For how skinny she was, Ancap took up a lot of space.

She’d always try to explain the world to Ancom, patronizingly rattling off the way she believed things worked and claiming it was perfect. No matter what Ancom bemoaned, she’d always fall back on telling them they’d get it when they were older, or when they got their first job, or some other arbitrary time in the future.

Ancom had originally felt sorry for the creepy weirdo, pale as a sheet and bony as a corpse, sitting on a park bench by herself and cursing into her phone, fedora constantly falling down her face. She had looked scruffy and lost, and maybe a little like she needed to see a therapist. Ancom just had to walk over and help her.

Ancap had at first tried to shoo them away, looking at Ancom as if they were a particularly persistent pigeon, and straight up refused the joint they offered her for relaxation. Ancom had stayed put, offering up the other things they just happened to carry with them at that time, which were, admittedly, mostly drugs. Ancap eventually accepted the gift, but also took it upon herself to then immediately delve into explaining to them the intricacies of the market and how businesses can’t thrive without profit and whatnot.

Ancom had genuinely thought at the time that this was Korsakov or schizophrenia speaking out of her, but Ancap had been able to answer all their trial questions clearly and without much trouble, and even caught on that she was being tested; absurdly, the endless rambling on the economy was just her personality and not some sort of defect. Offended at the notion, Ancap went on a lengthy rant about freedom and fairness being the basic values behind the market, ignoring Ancom’s profuse apologies about their wrong assumptions.

Ancom saw it right in front of their inner eye; Ancap’s sharp, slanted grin, always just a tad smug or spurious, her sullen cheekbones and gaunt limbs. Looking down into the bright blue eyes, speckled with brown, as they sat atop of her.

The can of peanuts fell off of its hazardous perch on their thigh, spilling into the grass. Ancom cursed harshly, setting aside the pepper and apple as they crouched down to salvage the peanuts. Most of them were dirty from the moist earth touching them; Ancom considered for a second before simply brushing off the soil and declaring them clean enough to eat.

“Why are you crawling around on the floor?”

Ancom’s head whipped up at the familiar voice. It was Posadist. “I dropped my nuts,” they explained as they continued their task.

“Don’t eat that. That’s dirty,” Posadist said, sounding concerned for the first time since Ancom met her.

“It’s fine. It’s just a little earth.”

“The rainwater on it is radioactive.”

Ancom quickly dropped the peanuts back on the floor, scrambling to their feet. “Really?”

Posadist nodded. “Not very, but enough to tip off some safety devices.”

“How do you know? I thought you do music?” Ancom unhappily wiped their hands on their shorts.

“I find nuclear physics very interesting. Commie told me that lovely factoid last night.”

It was like a punch in the gut to hear her name. Manipulative control freak jerk. “You talk to Commie?” Their voice sounded far too weepy for their liking.

“She’s an engineer and once visited a power plant. I always like hearing what those are like.” Posadist threw a skeptical look at the peanuts around Ancom’s feet. “You wanna eat something at my place?”

“Sure,” Ancom shrugged, picking up the rest of the can and her other two things.

“You can put that in here, if you want,” Posadist held open her plastic bag, carrying some stuff from the hardware store.

“You shouldn’t use plastic bags. They’re bad for the environment.”

“I don’t mind that so much,” the smaller girl chirped.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you want to destroy the planet?” Ancom balked, indignantly gesticulating around them.

“Sometimes you need to destroy things for them to get better.”

“Jesus,” Ancom rolled their eyes, hands now stuffed into the pockets of their hoodie. “That doesn’t make any sense. And it’s never made sense, either. Commie also babbled about capitalism having to devour itself before worldwide socialism can happen or whatever.” They suppressed their wince.

“Capitalism won’t devour itself if we don’t help it.”

“How about we don’t devour anything? Doesn’t that sound better?” Ancom squawked as they entered the apartment building.

“You do it your way, and I do it mine, what do you say?” Posadist smirked in the elevator.

Ancom fell quiet when they stood in the hallway in front of the flat.

“Could you lock the apartment, maybe?” they asked in a hushed voice once they entered the flat.

“I could, but why would I?” Posadist answered at normal volume.

“I had a little fight with Commie-”

“Ah,” Posadist brushed past them, locking the door and leaving the key.

Ancom furrowed their brows. “Do you know something I don’t know?” they asked as they followed her to her LED-adorned room.

“I get that you’re maybe a little nervous around her,” Posadist answered nonchalantly, throwing them a package of chips. “Most vegan thing we have.”

Ancom frowned.

“Don’t pout. Anprim believes meat is the natural food for humans and Anarcho-Monarchy and Homonationalist think vegan food is beneath them.”

“What about you?” they ripped open the package.

“I don’t care either way.”

“Because you need to destroy animal lives for them to get better?” Ancom mocked, watching curiously as Posadist unpacked her plastic bag; hammer, pliers, several long bands of metal, nails and some other, unidentifiable stuff.

Posadist pursed her lips as she unfurled the cable of what Ancom guessed was a soldering iron. “You could say that; if you quit animal husbandry, the populations of those animals would first rapidly go down. It would be a mass starvation.” She plugged in the cable, placing the soldering iron into its practical stand, nearly disappearing amidst the various instruments still cluttered her desk.

“I hate this argument. There’s a genocide on farm animals already, this ‘mass extinction’ is a blip on the map.”

“I don’t really care, Ancom,” Posadist pulled out a magnifying glass and two of the metal bands, beginning to solder the two together with the help of the glass.

“What are you doing?” Ancom asked between biting down on the crunchy chips.

“Preparations.”

Ancom didn’t want to be drawn into yet another excursion on salvation, so they decided to not ask further, instead aimlessly pressing keys on the keyboard next to them. There was something hypnotic about how the keys lit up when they were played.

“Why do you get me being nervous?” they returned to the topic before.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Posadist mused as she fit the metal bands to her window frame. Maybe she was sick of the trashy veneer of the tinfoil.

“You guys aren’t exactly transparent.”

“Touché,” she made to solder the next two bands together. “I just thought you might be unhappy about her fraternizing with your creepy roommate.”

“Which one?”

“The blonde, angry one.”

“Ah." Ancom swiveled on their chair. "Wait, what?”

“Oh, Homonationalist has been going on and on about her,” Posadist sounded like she was making idle small talk while Ancom continually tensed up. “I’m lead to believe she wants to get rid of you. I don’t really get it, you’re a great audience, but I guess she can’t appreciate that. She already couldn’t appreciate my music.”

Posadist really was crafting a new, weird, window frame.

Ancom gaped, unsure of what to ask first. Posadist seemed to notice.

“Homonationalist asked to look out of my window a few days ago; she wanted to watch your angry roommate-”

“ _Why_?” Ancom groaned.

“I don’t know,” Posadist shrugged, pulling out a indecipherable contraption, “but she looked out and Commie and your roommate were doing something she didn’t like. She muttered something about it being beneath your roomie and stormed off, looking pretty destitute.”

“They were probably fighting.”

“It did sound a bit like grunting. Still strange they met in the middle of the night.”

Ancom looked at their feet, slouching off of the chair because they didn’t feel like being upright anymore. They spotted absurd amounts of bottled mineral water stacked under the tables all around the room.

They weren’t even entirely sure what they did. Commie just got really angry over it, but what were they supposed to do? They couldn’t see into the future, how could they have known she’d be interested in them? Ancap had been there, and she’d been charming and made them feel special at the party and because she let them live here and Ancom had been _so_ high.

Also, who the fuck was Commie to police who they gave what to? It was _their_ sex life, no matter how short it was right now, and they could do with it as they pleased.

Maybe Commie was just pissed about the prostitution thing. Ancom kinda got that. They didn’t feel too great about it either; Ancap had been so blasé about it, Ancom had barely realized what was happening, but they had kind of thought, or hoped, that it was more of a joke than anything. Just like they had thought the insane ramblings in the park weren’t spoken lucidly.

“You don’t look so hot” Posadist reached into a drawer and offered them a pill.

“Is this rat poison again?”

“Not that I’d know of.”

As if. Or course Ancom took it.

Posadist installed the weird contraption; it turned out to be very solid blinds. She drew them the moment they were mounted to the window, casting the room in the dull kind of darkness that only the sun desperately trying to shine through a set of good blinds could create, sparse rays fighting themselves through the cracks at the edges.

“I liked what you played before,” Posadist stepped over to her keyboard and nearly onto Ancom still lounging on the floor. She twirled her fingers across the keys, morphing the random plunking Ancom had engaged in into a real melody.

Ancom stared at the ceiling. The golden specks of dust resting midair turned colorful and the ceiling came closer, became more detailed. Small cracks and mistakes in the paint job were noticeable now and they wondered if that’s how Nazi felt all the time; seeing every irregularity with such stark clarity. The ‘mistakes’ in the paint weren’t really mistakes; they didn’t matter and usually, no one saw them, and if they did they only served to break up the monotony of the ceiling. But now, they disturbed the uniformity of the paint and Ancom could kind of see how that might bother people. But it wasn’t the mistake’s fault; if there were more of it, in regular intervals, it would merge perfectly with the rest, creating a new, just as nice pattern. But then the ceiling would be full of mistakes.

“I’m not a fucking mistake,” they slurred, suddenly angry with themselves. Posadist didn’t hear them, engrossed in making a slow, mellow piece that only occasionally sported a squeaky violin performance. Ancom’s original melody was still at its core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, I hope I'm not getting too weird with the metaphors. First the dresses, and now this. Ah well. I also apologize for my kinda ooc Homonationalism, but I like her being just the way less subtle version of Authright. 
> 
> Again a bit of a filler chapter since I like to at least pretend to have a grasp on pacing. On a side note, I noticed that I used to write "Posadism" which has now changed into "Posadist". There's no real consensus on which version to use sooo I'm probably just going to retroactively change it in the former chapters because that works better with the rest of the conventions. What a bureaucratic thing to bring up I should probably go to bed before I start writing about taxes haha


	12. Chapter 12

Nazi was surprised her day had gone as smoothly as it did. Nazbol wasn’t exactly quiet, but at least she was entertaining. She had an open ear for Nazi’s hateful hissing when she turned up at the booth and for once, Nazi just said what was on her mind. Nazbol laughed at her hot takes and mirrored her outrage; it was actually really nice and lifted her mood enough to bear the brunette’s incessant yapping for the rest of the day. Especially since the yapping, too, had been ‘tainted’ by their last conversation.

Slight spring in her step, she returned to her flat after work, finding it suspiciously deserted. No creaking, no moaning, giggling, clanking of dishes, nothing.

Still slightly suspicious, she went to the kitchen to fix herself a glass of water. Finally, a door opened, and Commie’s heavy steps, more irregular than usual, came towards her.

The hairs on her neck stood up; she still didn’t want to talk about that one night. Gathering her courage, she turned as nonchalantly as she could, almost flinching at the sight she was met with. Commie looked like absolute _trash_. Face wrinkled with more emotions than Nazi could name, hair messy, running around in her Adidas tracksuit instead of her usual trim outfits, and most jarringly, a whole bottle of vodka in her hand as she leaned against the kitchen doorframe.

“Let’s play Call of Duty,” she mumbled, swaying where she stood.

Nazi played with the idea of saying no, but she didn’t feel like getting a glass bottle whirled at her head right after she managed to make her day bearable. So she nodded and followed the socialist stumbling into her room.

Nazi hadn’t been in here before, and was impressed and amused by how clearly it was _normally_ very clean, just not right now. Pens, books (of which there were disconcertingly many), clothes, and papers were perfectly organized, lying in clearly designated spots, but around them, trash littered the floor and the sheets were crumpled up; it’s like Commie had tried to make her room disorganized, but only managed to ruffle up some surface level stuff.

She motioned for Nazi to sit on the bed. She hesitated for a second, causing Commie to bark “Sit!” at her. She quickly sat down.

On the opposite wall stood an old TV that was hooked up to the desecrated corpse of a computer, cables and circuit boards haphazardly sticking out of it. Next to it was a slightly smaller, but still sizable computer screen, itself also hooked up to a smaller computer cadaver. The TV already had Call of Duty running, and the screen showed the desktop of a strangely old fashioned looking operating system.

 _Of course she uses Linux_ , Nazi thought to herself when Commie started screwing around with the command line to get the game to run.

The taller woman tossed her a controller, missing by a mile. Nazi decided not to comment and grabbed it as the game loaded up. Commie plopped down next to her, back hunched and eyes empty. Very pathetic.

They played for a couple of minutes. The silence was getting awkward; both of them had speakers, but they were both on really silent which Nazi guessed was fair, but pointless. She couldn’t differentiate between shots fired at her and at Commie this way anyway.

She stole a glance at the other girl. She looked entranced in the game.

“Have you ever thought you were,” Commie swallowed, “immoral?”

Nazi furrowed her brows. The sound of button mashing filled the room. “Why do you ask?” her eyes nervously flitted over to her roommate.

“I had a fight with Ancom.”

Hadn’t Nazi still been afraid Commie might strangle her with the cord of the controller, she might have said something waspish. Watching the lean muscle on Commie’s arms ripple as she gripped the controller, Nazi resisted the urge.

“What about?” she forced herself to ask.

Somehow, that was also the wrong response. Commie grimaced painfully, pressing shoot so violently Nazi feared the controller would break.

“People often tell me I’m evil,” Nazi began carefully, trying to subtly shift away from her roommate. “Or immoral I guess. It’s just something they say. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Commie sighed heavily. “It does mean something, Nazi. Good and evil are inherent concepts in the world, tied into the very fabric of social interaction.”

It was strange to listen to her. She spoke like she was completely drunk, because she was, speech slurred and hard to understand, but the wording didn’t mirror that fact.

“You would probably profit from reading Crime and Punishment,” Commie hiccuped. “I try to be good. And I think I am – I go to great lengths to ensure justice around me, make sure people are treated equally. But Ancom gives me the feeling I’m evil. That I’m doing it wrong.”

Nazi shrugged, relaxing a little in her seat. Commie seemed too sad to actually attack her. “I wouldn’t assume everyone considers equality the ultimate moral good.”

“Injustice is something even children can sense as discomforting. People are born, or raised into, different needs and capabilities, and they should not be punished for it.” She set down her controller as the loading screen came up, taking another deep swig from her bottle.

“I don’t see why the strong should have to suffer under the weak,” Nazi quipped.

“The strong should _guide_ the weak. Everything else would be wrong and inefficient. You can’t have a system comprised only of those who are, say, strong laborers when you may need the small and nimble to crawl inside your machines.”

Nazi only quietly harrumphed. She didn’t feel like explaining that some people weren’t useful for _anything_. Nobody ever liked hearing that, no matter how true it was. Commie wouldn’t be able to process it right now anyway.

“Maybe Ancom just isn’t a fan of you being the strong that guides her weak.”

“Their.”

“Her.”

The taller woman sighed. “Maybe you’re right. They seem allergic to rules.”

“As her type tends to be.” It was a small victory to get Commie to stop trying to correct her.

“But rules are important,” she ignored Nazi’s comment, “I can’t pretend otherwise.” She sounded so gloomy.

“I agree,” Nazi chirped, trying to raise the mood a bit. She sat up straighter, hoping Commie would follow suit. She didn’t.

“And they _are_ weak, at least for now.”

“That’s why she always runs away instead of confronting anyone.”

That made Commie laugh. “Oh, Nazi,” she patted her back, “you should be happy they have been running so far. Because the first person they are going to fight will be you.”

Nazi ducked away from the touch, shirking off the unwelcome sensation. “She can try if she wants to.”

“So presumptuous,” Commie grinned. At least she seemed happier now. “I think Ancom has been in more fights than you.”

Nazi’s tongue burnt with the desire to exclaim that one wrong move and Nazi would just riddle Ancom's body with holes. She would’ve said it were it anyone else sitting besides her, but Commie was probably the one person who would take this as a cue to search her room and confiscate her guns the next time she wasn’t at home. And just when she had acquired that beautiful, beautiful rifle.

So she just huffed indignantly, biding her time.

Ancap walked home, fingers stiff and eyes burning. Considering Neoliberal’s appalled expression when she had returned from her bathroom-cocaine-run with a nosebleed, she had forgone any further use of helper drugs for the duration of their talk; that had really taken its toll on her, but she survived.

She hadn’t listened to half of what the lawyer had babbled about; it was nuanced and boring and she was pretty sure she had Libertarian wrapped around her finger anyway after last night. Her cousin was still awfully quippy, but Ancap knew how to tell the difference between that and being genuinely uppity.

When she exited the elevator, the creepy lady from the forenoon already stood in the doorway.

“Haven’t talked to Nazi yet,” Ancap said before she could ask.

The taller woman’s face fell, the frown turning into a sneer quickly. “One of your roommates is here, she fell asleep on Posadist’s floor. Posadist is too weak to carry her and I don’t want to touch her disgusting skin.”

“Their,” Ancap sighed, feeling silly for even trying. “Yeah, I’ll go fetch them.” She went into the flat, shaking her head. “No wonder you and Nazi get along.”

She felt the hopeful gaze boring into the back of her head, but chose to ignore it in favor of picking up Ancom. She knocked more out of politeness than anything else at the door with the LEDs, loud music coming from the room beyond as usual. She barely even heard it when she was in her flat, so used had she gotten to it.

She went inside without waiting for a response. Posadist looked at her with her regular mischievous eyes, jumping back and forth between her looping- and keyboard. On the floor, curled up into a small ball, lay Ancom, more comatose than asleep. Ancap knelt down, roughly shaking them. Ancom nearly slapped her in their wake, angrily glaring up at her with their eyes nearly closed.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Ancap said gently, evading another flail of Ancom’s arm.

Ignoring their mindless whining, she tapped Posadist’s leg. “You got something for me?”

The small girl nodded, and pulled another mystery pill from her pocket.

“For waking up or becoming like that?” Ancap pointed at Ancom.

“Waking up. I think,” Posadist gave her a bright smile. At least she had turned down the music since Ancap walked in.

Getting a little impatient, Ancap helped Ancom into a seating position, frisking them while she was at it. She lifted what felt like yet another small bag of powder from Ancom’s pocket, waving it in front of their face.

“I’m taking this for the usual rate,” she enunciated overly clearly as she pulled out two fifties and stuffed them into the pocket the bag had just vacated. She doubted that Ancom was properly aware of what was going on, but she didn’t want to wait any longer than absolutely necessary for her next hit. She’d get grumpy otherwise.

Letting Ancom get used to sitting upright, Ancap motioned at the table to ask Posadist whether she could use it to take a line. Posadist nodded, and Ancap could finally, finally get back to her senses.

Reinvigorated, she crouched down with Ancom again. “You ready to get up now?”

Ancom groaned, and Ancap took it as a yes. She snaked her arm under Ancom, helping them up with some difficulty; Ancap wasn’t exactly strong, only motivated. At least Ancom wasn’t very heavy.

As they wobbled out of the flat, Ancap still supporting the smaller person, Ancom mumbled something about not wanting to see Commie. Suppressing the urge to vindictively cackle exacerbated by the high, Ancap assured them they wouldn’t have to.

“We’ll just have to be real sneaky,” she purred. “And then we can hide in my room. It actually has a lock.”

“I don’t think Commie cares about locks.”

Ancap chuckled. “No, but I also have some other security measures. Trust me, you’re perfectly safe with me.”

“And? How much do I owe the queen of the snakes for her services?” Ancom slurred.

“Just your pleasant company.”

Ancap sensed Ancom wanted to respond something snarky, but their mouth snapped shut as they walked through their apartment’s corridor, hurrying into Ancap’s room.

“What do you think she’s doing?” Ancom asked, voice and expression amusingly somber.

“Playing Call of Duty with Nazi, from the sound of it,” Ancap rolled down the blinds and shook her mouse to deactivate her screensaver. Her mining tool went pretty well, she was pleased to see.

“That game glorifies fascists,” Ancom frowned.

“Don’t you kill them?”

“Still.”

A short minute of silence; Ancap used it to check her stocks.

“Why did you tell Commie about us?”

 _Because I was jealous and hate Commie_. “I didn’t think anything of it. It’s not a big deal, right?”

Ancom curled into themselves. They really liked doing that. “Commie was really upset.”

“What about?” Ancap asked, swiveling around in her chair to look at Ancom sitting on the floor.

Ancom shrugged, face morphing from downtrodden to annoyed. “Because she’s a jealous jerk.”

“Who would’ve thunk that Commie of all people would be possessive,” Ancap joked.

“It’s none of her business, right?”

“Not if you ask me. But you knew that.”

Ancom seemed to slowly regain their consciousness. “She was really sweet to me before, we made love all night and I think she was going to bring me breakfast...and then she just turned like a switch when she heard we had sex!”

“Weird.”

Ancom sat up, facing Ancap properly. “She got so angry over it...she called you slime or something, like you’re some kind of monster, but she gets to hang out wit Nazi like it’s nothing? A literal fascist?”

Ancap considered telling Ancom straight away of the little fling between the two control freaks, but thought better of it. Ancom was already so enraged, it wouldn’t have the full impact now. _I didn’t want to overstrain you, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right away_ , she put together the words for later.

“What can I say,” Ancap said instead, “socialists are fucking hypocrites.”

Now Ancom looked doleful again. “I think she was also worried that you sullied me or something.”

Ancap snorted. “Sullied? Sounds like victim shaming to me, if we’re already accepting the fact that consensual encounters with me ‘sully’ people.”

She watched as Ancom’s face hardened, softened, contorted, and eventually settled on looking forlorn. It was a little painful to watch, she had to admit.

So much so that Ancap was actually kind of happy when some knocking interrupted their bitching session.

“Yeah?” she called out.

“Commie wants to know if the miscreant will speak to her,” Nazi’s voice drifted through the door.

“Fuck you, fascist!”

Ancap waved Ancom off, opening her door a sliver.

“Why’s she not coming herself? Not exactly a long way down the corridor,” Ancap asked. Nazi was still in her work uniform; it suited her _really_ well, especially with that cap.

“She was afraid she’d hear things she could never unhear through your door. I’ve already been cursed with that memory, so I volunteered.”

Just like Commie, Nazi sometimes said things that were obviously jokes on paper so earnestly that Ancap wasn’t sure if she even noticed the humor.

“And I can’t stand to hear another poetic rant on morality and love without strangling someone, so let’s get this over with, please,” she added under her breath.

Ancap smirked, but nodded. “Oh, wait,” she called when Nazi turned to leave. “What do you think of the blonde dame from next door?”

Nazi scrunched her face. “She’s annoying and I hate her,” she said, marching off for good.

 _At least she’s very clear_.

“Yo, Ancom,” she turned around, “you ready to go talk to Commie? I think that was her crappy peace offering.”

Ancom looked unsure, brows furrowed and lips pursed. Ancap was totally fine with them deciding to stay in her room after all.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

They looked up questioningly at Ancap, getting to their feet agonizingly slowly.

“Just go,” she said, having remembered that Ancom staying with her meant not getting any work done all night. Bad bargain.

Ancom shakily nodded and tapped out of the room, gently knocking on Commie’s door after a moment’s hesitation.

Commie opened the door, looking about as trashed as Ancom did; bags under her eyes, hair down and disheveled, running around in her comfy night clothes, and absolutely _reeking_ of alcohol.

Ancom wrinkled their nose. “You should find less stinky drugs.”

Commie ignored them, instead motioning for them to come in. Ancom sat on the bed, refusing to sit on an uncomfortably hard floor any second longer after having done that all day, while Commie awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

Commie’s hand nervously shook; she didn’t look at Ancom, but somewhere in the middle distance, posture bowed and wobbly.

“Did you- again?” she asked.

Ancom tilted their head.

She sighed, rubbing a worn hand over her face. “Did you and Ancap-”

“Did we fuck again in the meantime to hurt your feelings?” Ancom snarled. “No, we didn’t. But if you don’t stop assuming I’m such a dick I might turn into one.”

Commie’s eyes squinted shut; she was still hanging there like a plant that needed watering. Ancom’s heart beat into their throat.

“And? Did you whine to Nazi about what a degenerate I am?” Ancom voice was biting and spiteful.

The taller woman grimaced, still refusing to properly look at them. She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t tell her anything. You- you wouldn’t want that. I think.”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t.”

Finally, Commie trusted herself enough to face Ancom, looking down at them with her lips tightly pressed together.

“I don’t want to apologize.”

“Cool.”

“But I want to forgive you.”

Ancom made a face. “Forgive me for what? I didn’t _do_ anything. You don’t get to dictate my past.”

Commie shifted in place, dangerously tilting to the side. Ancom wasn’t going to help her up if she fell over.

“Can you believe me that I do what I do because I care about you?”

Ancom pulled their legs up on the mattress, folding their feet to their hips. “I guess.” They examined their feet. Maybe they should’ve taken off their shoes before putting them on the bed. “Though I’m not so sure anymore.”

Commie’s head whipped around, looking like she had just been stabbed.

“I don’t know! You’ve been a- associating with a fascist! That’s not exactly trustworthy.”

Commie slowly shook her head, letting her bottle drop onto the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Still unsteady on her feet, she wandered over to Ancom, sitting down on the floor next to them and hesitantly leaning against their knee. She sighed deeply for the thousandth time in this conversation.

“You’re right.” Her voice was low, but finally somewhat even.

Ancom shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t dare remove their knee; the contact almost felt like their skin was burning. Commie’s hair was so untidy and out of place, Ancom just wanted to reach out and fix it to make it at least somewhat presentable. They refrained.

“Nazi brings out my cruel streak.”

Ancom swallowed. They were pretty sure they didn’t _have_ a cruel streak.

“But she also reminds me of what I don’t like about it.”

Running their fingers through Commie’s hair after all, Ancom snorted. “Cruel streak is kind of her whole personality.”

Commie leaned into their hand, pitifully stretching upwards to keep in touch with it to it when Ancom tried to pull away. Sympathy overtaking them, they placed their hand back down, resting it gently on Commie’s head.

“I think you underestimate her,” she mumbled.

Ancom let it slide. Watching Commie splayed at their feet in her ill fitting tracksuit and sadly maundering about Nazi being misunderstood was so pathetic and transparent, Ancom couldn’t muster up the energy to be angry about it.

“Do you hate me?” Commie tilted her face up, watery blue eyes meeting Ancom’s dark ones.

Ancom curled their lips and shook their head.

The brunette released a heavy breath, propping herself up on her elbows to kiss Ancom. They flinched back momentarily, but quickly leaned forward again, taking Commie’s head in their hands. Commie pushed them further up the bed, crawling in between their legs and snaking one hand under the small of their back, the other hand sliding atop Ancom’s.

“Now you belong to me, though, yes?” she muttered hotly into Ancom’s ear.

They wanted to resist; the phrasing didn’t sit right with them, but Commie was so warm and heavy and they felt dizzy from feeling her between their thighs. So they just nodded eagerly, hoping that would get them what they wanted: another deep kiss and Commie’s hand slipping under their shirt.

“We belong to each other.”

Ancom wished she would just shut up. They didn’t want to have to think about any implications or wording or anything at all aside from what was happening right now, in the real world. They drowned out Commie’s drunkenly poetic meanderings with their mewls and sighs and squeals, urging her on.

One room over, Nazi scribbled onomatopoeic transcriptions of what she heard onto her desk. The noise pooled in her head and overflowed into her fingers; the sensation was so unsettling, yet so familiar. Her senses heightened unhealthily, every creak as loud as a gunshot, every scent like pure sewage and her vision blurry.

The pencil mine broke off, as it often did. She kept writing, etching the impressions into the desk through sheer willpower.

Maybe there was a better way to deal with this? It was happening more and more often instead of less and her fingers hurt from how hard she was gripping the pencil. She just waited for the day it overcame her when she wasn’t alone. That’s when someone was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, our cutie resident lefites are back together! For no reason whatsoever! That bodes well!
> 
> I also just realized that only like a week has passed in-story. Commie's pretty clingy when you look at it like that. Or any way, tbh
> 
> I hope you enjoy!


	13. Chapter 13

Ancap was deeply engrossed in her online poker game, about to win the big pot. She loved poker, and gambling in general; it was the gamification of the stock market, a low brow, low blood pressure way to get that same kick. And she was freakishly good at it.

The round closed on her predictable victory, and she decided it was enough for today; she didn’t want to get carried away when she already pocketed most of the other player’s hard earned money. She got up and walked over to the kitchen to fetch herself a soda and maybe take a detour on the way back to Nazi’s room; she owed Ancap another payment for the German rifle, and if she was already there, she might as well extract some more information for their weird neighbor. Ancap doubted the sneered words she delivered to Homonationalist were of any particular value to the latter’s quest for Nazi’s heart, but she wasn’t about to say no to free money.

And really, these were times that called for some unity between her and Nazi. The thought popped up when she entered the kitchen, finding Ancom cutely sitting on the counter, legs dangling off the side, and Commie playfully kissing their nose. Ancap rolled her eyes at the fridge when she heard the lovey giggling behind her, the two leftists fully unaware of the world around them as they cooked together.

Ancom had actually managed to get their girlfriend to at least try and cook vegan for them after several arguments that went exactly nowhere; Commie had merely decided that peace in their fledgling relationship was more important to her than eating what she wanted. Especially after Ancap had walked in on one of their little spats and suggested that if it were up to her, Ancom could eat whatever they wanted.

The pair started making out against the kitchen counter while Ancap was still in the room. Rude. She couldn’t wait for their little bond to blow up in their faces.

She strolled to Nazi’s room, rapping on her door.

“Payments,” she called in.

Grumbling, the push of a chair on carpet, some rustling, and the very distinct sound of Nazi trying to get cash out of her piggy bank. Ancap didn’t regret snooping around her room if it meant she at least knew what the odd noises coming from it all the time were. The door opened.

“Here. How many of these do I need to make?” she frowned.

“This is only the second one. Three more,” Ancap replied as she counted the money.

A particularly loud squeak from the kitchen. Nazi flinched.

“I’m sure they’ll get out of their honeymoon phase soon,” Ancap consoled her, shoving the bills into her back pocket. “At least some of us are getting it on, right?”

Nazi made a face.

Confident that the two in the kitchen wouldn’t have heard them if they started a gunfight, Ancap continued.

“Oh, come on, no need to be so high and mighty. You can’t be so delusional to think I didn’t know about your little rendezvous,” she grinned mischievously.

Nazi’s eyes went wide. It looked somewhere between scary and comical, what with the even deeper rings under her eyes than usual. She would really benefit from using some concealer.

Quicker than Ancap had thought Nazi could be, she closed her door, pushing Ancap into her own room and slamming the door behind both of them, hands somehow still clutched on Ancap’s collar.

“What do you know?” She shook Ancap slightly for extra effect.

“Relax, relax,” Ancap righted her sunglasses, “I’m like Switzerland. I'm not telling anyone your dirty secrets.”

“Let me guess: As long as I pay you,” Nazi spat. “What’s to stop me from just killing you right now instead?”

“Jesus,” Ancap held up her hands, “you really need to do some yoga or something, maybe meditate.” She somehow extracted herself from Nazi’s iron grip. “You can’t just threaten everyone you vaguely don’t like with murder.”

Nazi just stared at her, befuddled, hands impotently hovering at her side. She always looked especially preppy when she wore her uniform shirt tucked into a skirt and her cap still on. Ancap couldn’t pretend she didn’t kind of understand Homonationalist’s infatuation. Especially when Nazi looked so angry and bewildered at the same time. ‘Spooked’ was the right word.

“I happened to have been in earshot for your dark-corner-dates and thought you might appreciate some lighthearted banter. Nothing malicious.”

The blonde didn’t drop her lost expression.

“It’s totally cool. You can talk to me, if you want.”

“So that you can turn my words into profit at my expense? No, thank you,” Nazi found her voice again.

Ancap rolled her eyes, taking off her sunglasses to clean them.

“Maybe I will, maybe I’m just trying to keep you from doing something rash with all that pressure you must be building up.”

The tension was growing; Nazi narrowed her eyes, beginning to dangerously circle her. Ancap kept her well practiced poker face, leisurely meeting Nazi’s inquisitive gaze as if nothing was wrong. She had obviously just referenced her roommates repressed sexuality, nothing else.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Nazi took a step back, towards the door.

Putting her sunglasses back on, Ancap shrugged. “Up to you. Though I’m sure our neighbor also always has an open ear for you, if you know what I mean.”

The disgusted grimace Nazi threw at her made Ancap chuckle. “I _hate_ that degenerate almost as much as I hate Ancom. Maybe even more. She’s a repulsive disgrace to our race,” she spat.

“She’s kinda creepy, I guess,” Ancap agreed, “though I still honestly don’t get what your problem with Ancom is.”

Nazi deadpanned. “I don’t really hate Ancom per se. But she shouldn’t be here.”

“Here as in…?”

“In the country. Anywhere. There’s no real place for her kind in a functioning society.”

Ancap leaned back against her desk, crossing her arms. “So, what? You want to deport her or kill her or what exactly?” Ancap smirked.

Her misgendering worked; Nazi seemed to immediately relax, shoulders going down and hands finally moving naturally again. “Just removed, in whichever way is necessary.”

“And what then? Does her kind get its on country or how does this work?”

“Up to them.” Nazi screwed up her nose. “Though I doubt their country would work particularly well. They’re not made for big societies, they don’t have the mental capacity.”

“Why not just use them as sla- serfs then?” Ancap proposed.

“Sure. Also fine; as long as they can be forced to be productive by any means necessary.” Ancap could practically watch Nazi get less and less happy about the idea. “No, actually, forget it. They don’t belong here, whether as serfs or fake citizens.”

“I don’t really see the problem. Let them slave away, right?”

Nazi shook her head. She was clearly taking this conversation very seriously. “You don’t get it.”

“I really don’t.”

“They _can’t_ work. It’s not natural for them to be here.”

“If they don’t work, they starve, if you ask me.”

Now the blonde rolled her eyes. “That’s just an inefficient and wishy-washy version of what I’d do. I kinda like it when the arguably bad things that happen at least happen on purpose.”

Grinning, Ancap raised her brows. “I think I’d prefer it if bad things were accidents, but alright.”

“That’s because you’re a coward,” Nazi smirked.

Ancap had been successful; Nazi seemed _much_ less stressed out. Who would’ve thought a small talking-to would help this much? They continued their little conversation on whether or not Ancom should die by their own hands or Nazi’s, and by the end, Nazi was genuinely laughing and cracking – slightly awkward – jokes. Ancap showed Nazi her stocks, causing her to mutter something about evil elites, and Nazi told Ancap about her ‘honest work’ at the station.

Commie expertly cut the celery while Ancom struggled with the zucchini; it’s not like they weren’t able, they just kept making the slices too irregular.

“Who cares if they’re not even?”

“They need to be even so that they can be fried evenly. Otherwise some will be burnt when others aren’t cooked yet,” Commie explained patiently.

“We could also just take out the thin ones earlier.”

“That’s not really how cooking works, Anarkitty.”

Ancom pouted. “Sounds fascist.”

Commie chuckled, petting their head. “Maybe so. But to make a meal, the vegetables need to work in concert to produce good food.”

“We could also put in the thick zucchini slices _before_ the thin ones.”

“That seems like a lot of unnecessary hassle when you could just slice them properly,” she dumped the celery into the pan with the onions, coming up to Ancom. Hovering just behind them, she gently placed her hands over Ancom’s, guiding them to cut the zucchini into perfectly even slices. Ancom’s breath hitched and they pushed backwards to touch their girlfriend properly, but Commie inched back in kind.

“Do it right, then you’ll get your reward,” she smirked, turning back to the pan.

“You two are so saccharine, it’s disgusting,” Ancap remarked as she went to fix herself a glass of water.

Commie instantly tensed up, narrowed eyes menacingly following her host’s route to the sink.

Blissfully unaware, Ancom answered. “You’re just jealous.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Ancap leered, leaning towards Ancom with a lewd grin on her face. Unimpressed, Ancom stuck their tongue out at her.

Ancap’s eyes flitted towards Commie for a moment, just to gauge whether she was in imminent danger. Not yet, maybe just because Commie didn’t want to upset Ancom.

She pulled back nonetheless. “Have fun in there, you lovebirds. But at least try to make some dinner while you’re at it.”

“You could try to not exploit people while you’re at it,” Commie mumbled mockingly.

“I heard that,” Ancap singsonged as she left the room.

Commie just couldn’t help but seethe whenever she saw her host’s shit eating grin, always sauntering around like she owned the place. Because she did. The capitalist pig. On top of that, Commie was sure the kulak was purposefully flirtatious around Ancom just to rile her up; visions of their filthy encounters preyed on her whenever she saw the shorter girl, and it burned her insides. Those bony, useless fingers that had never worked a day in their lives roaming across Ancom’s pure skin, touching them, kissing them, fucking them-

“Blyat,” she cursed, shaking her hand; a drop of blood was spilling out of the finger she had just cut into.

“You okay?” Ancom turned.

She nodded, rudimentarily sucking on her finger to get rid of the blood.

Ancom wasn’t convinced. “What happened?” they asked as they came up to her, pulling down her arm to examine her finger. “You have to disinfect that!”

“It’s fine. I cut myself often.”

Their head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Not like that, Anarkitty.”

They looked back at her hand, still clutched in theirs. “Still. That could get infected. Trust me, wounds that aren’t tended to right away can get real ugly. And none of us have healthcare.”

“Ancap is privately insured.”

“But she won’t share.”

Ignoring any other interjections Commie might have attempted, they scurried off to their room, returning with a tiny first aid kit decorated with colorful stickers.

“Cute.”

“This,” Ancom explained seriously, “saved my life on multiple occasions.”

Commie raised her brows, smirking. “What occasions?”

“Counter rallies, mostly.” They opened the kit, stock full of bandages and rubbing alcohol.

“Are those so violent?” Commie let her finger be doused in the alcohol and then diligently wrapped in a bandage.

When Ancom was done, they put down the kit and pulled away their hair right above their ear, revealing a nasty scar. “I’m not a mellow liberal. I go to counter rallies to fight the enemy.”

Commie swallowed, furrowing her brows in concern. She pushed away the hair again to stare at the scar a little longer, gently thumbing over it. Ancom didn’t seem to like the attention.

“I didn’t know you actually got into fights.” She released her lover, Ancom hurrying to stroke their hair over the scar again. “I mean, I did, but I wasn’t really aware you got hurt in them.”

“Of course I do,” Ancom huffed, packing up their kit. “It’s not like the fascists there are peaceful or anything. Or the police, for that matter. They hate us more than the fascists, I think.”

Commie reached out to look at it again, but Ancom ducked away, carrying the kit back to their room.

“How can you get into fights like that?” Commie asked when they returned. “You’re so small.”

“I’m not that small.”

Commie tilted her head.

“Okay, fine. But size doesn’t matter. Motivation does.”

The pan hissed loudly, and Commie quickly turned to it to salvage the food that was just about to burn. She managed, fervently stirring the contents to regain control of the situation. Ancom turned back to their zucchini.

“You shouldn’t get into fights anymore,” Commie said, resolute.

“You can’t stop me from fighting fascists.”

“Yes, I can.”

Ancom wanted to protest, but Commie shut them up with a surprise kiss. “I can tie you to the bed,” she cooed.

Heat rose to Ancom’s cheeks as they profusely protested about bashing fascists being a human right, while Commie languidly snaked her arm around them and kissed their neck. They melted into the affections, happily purring as Commie gave their ass a light squeeze.

“But seriously, don’t get into fights. I don’t want to have to worry about you.” She pulled away, leaving an annoyed Ancom in her wake.

Nazi was going to go insane. She wasn’t in one of her moods this time, but the unholy creaking coming from the next room would’ve kept awake anyone who wasn’t drugged beyond recognition like Ancap.

“ _Please, Commie, I need-_ ”

She didn’t even try to cover her ears with her pillow. It didn’t work, as she sadly knew from experience.

Loud squealing as the bed creaked dangerously; what on earth could two girls be doing to abuse the poor furniture this much? Nazi’s male bedmates had all been relatively rough, but never this noisy.

Maybe she could call the police on them, have them walk in on them fucking. That would be embarrassing, right? She shuddered when she realized the degenerate scoundrels might actually enjoy getting caught.

“ _More, more, more, more-_ ”

She imagined Ancom gripping the sheets, ripping them from their right place, as they twisted and turned under the ministrations. There was a part of her that liked the noises, in a screwed up way. She could admit that since her nice little talk with Ancap; she hadn’t called Nazi gay or disgusting or anything, seemingly accepting that Nazi may have had a few slip ups, but was overall straight as a board.

It made her more comfortable with remembering those encounters; she wasn’t proud of either of them, but she also wasn’t particularly proud of any of the other people she had taken home with. One loser after the other, none of them good at their craft. A sad selection that she sometimes, in dark nights, felt spoke volumes about her; but she knew not to get too lost in those thoughts. The propaganda machine had rendered most men completely impotent, of course they didn’t turn her on. And even if they did, none of them ever reached her ideological standards.

Reaching down to her panties as the noise assaulted her ears, Nazi thought of her ideal man. He’d be strong, handsome, tall, bursting with integrity and very manly. Dominant. She imagined herself on her knees, pleasuring him, saw herself from his view as he’d toy with her, making her squeal not unlike Ancom in the next room. The fantasy took its course, she envisioned pinning the pretty blonde underneath him, eyes almost fearful as she drowned in them-

She bolted upright. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t imagining this the right way.

Pulling up her fingers, she unhappily noted how wet they were.

“ _Get on top_ _, Anarkitty._ ”

She frowned; that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. It reminded her far too much of their fling behind the apartment building.

Growing increasingly frustrated, she slipped out of bed and quietly tapped to Ancap’s room.

“Yes?” a clearly still awake and working Ancap opened the door.

“Do you ever sleep?” she asked irritatedly.

“Rarely. What’s up?” she let her in, sitting back down on her swivel chair.

“I need a favor.”

“There’s no favors here, darling,” Ancap absentmindedly checked something on her computer, “only cold hard cash.”

“Whatever, a favor for money, then.”

Ancap turned to her. “Spit it out. I’m not barging in on those two though, Commie is already this close to killing me anyways.”

“No, no,” Nazi shook her head. “Uhm. Right, so, I heard that you aren’t unwilling to...”

The brunette tilted her head.

“...do sexual things for money,” Nazi practically flushed out the words.

“Oh. Of course! What do you want?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Was there a worse reaction than chipper enthusiasm?

“I,” she sighed, “I just tell you what to do and you do it. And you can look,” she waved her head around, “scared? Abject?”

“Adoring?” Ancap supplied.

“Right. That.”

“Sure, then we can discuss price depending on what you ended up doing. We can agree to a maximum rate of a hundred?”

Nazi blanched.

“How often have I told you, relax! That’s the absolute maximum. To make sure we don’t exceed it, we need a safeword.”

Nazi regretted her decision already. “A safeword?”

“Something I say to stop the session. Or you, I guess. I’m assuming ‘stop’ and ‘no’ is stuff you’ll _want_ to hear from how you’ve described it. I tend to use ‘taxes’.”

Of course she did.

“Sure. Whatever. Get on your knees, then,” Nazi ordered, already wanting the whole ordeal to be over with.

“How eager,” Ancap commented as she slithered to the floor, kneeling in front of the pretty blonde. She could imagine worse.

“For the love of god, just shut up.”

Nazi roughly pushed her foot in Ancap’s face when she attempted to answer; she faintly wondered if the demand for silence was a power fantasy or just Nazi wanting to hear the muffled squealing from Commie’s room properly.

As it stood, it was the most awkward and stiff sex Ancap had _ever_ had. Sure, most sex she had was coked up and barely aware, with other, even less conscious people, but at least it wasn’t this.

Nazi seemed to be chronically unhappy throughout the entire process, tersely commanding Ancap to do this and lick that, with no rhyme or reason behind it. Tops tended to have somewhat of a plan in Ancap’s experience, but Nazi didn’t seem sure of anything at all, not even what she wanted herself. Ancap tried her hardest to turn the situation around, make it at least a little bit enjoyable, but every attempt on her end of making suggestions was silenced by Nazi, either verbally or by clasping her fingers over Ancap’s mouth.

“Ju- Just lie on the bed. On your back.”

Suppressing a sigh, Ancap did as she was told, though she heavily considered using her safeword just so this sad scene would be over.

Nazi climbed on top of her – still nearly fully clothed, as should be mentioned – looking vaguely grossed out as she reached down to touch Ancap. She flinched when she came in contact with something wet, and while Ancap was by no means sensitive, the way Nazi carried herself as her fingers explored was downright offensive. Blindly letting her fingers search the area, she seemed to gather her courage before pushing them in. It was Ancap’s turn to flinch, surprised at how quickly Nazi’s fingers moved; despite how clumsily she handled herself, Ancap couldn’t deny the effect the smooth, long fingers had on her.

Still uneasily looking everywhere except the girl under her, Nazi managed to get into a good rhythm, probably helped along by her tying her thrusts to the noises coming from the other room. Ancap began to pant, trying to stay quiet to not risk pissing her off.

“Is this good?” Nazi asked, eyes fixed on a spot on the mattress near Ancap’s head.

Ancap nodded. “Uh huh. Yeah,” she pressed out, containing the moan threatening to escape her.

Nazi nodded, too. “Good. Okay,” she moved to pull out.

“If you make me come I’ll charge you less,” Ancap sputtered.

Now they finally made eye contact. Nazi hesitated for a few moments, only faint creaking drifting through the room as the wheels turned in her head.

“Fine,” she pushed her half out fingers back in. “Don’t make any noise, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More time skip, but spicy time skip I guess? I actually really enjoyed writing the rightist unity scene once I got into it, but that's just because I like awkward sex scenes.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	14. Chapter 14

Ancom whined when Commie tried to wake them up. It was their little ritual: Commie would nuzzle Ancom awake, purring pet names into their ear as she cuddled up to them, and Ancom would try to bat her away. Then Commie would get up and fix them breakfast, carrying it over to the bed where Ancom was always still pretending that they’d sleep through the scene. Commie would pat their head and go shower, at which point Ancom would finally get up and curl up by her legs, basking in the warmth. Commie always ended her showers with a cold burst for extra energy, waking Ancom up fully as they’d jump up and tumble out of the shower, loudly complaining about being doused in freezing water.

Commie found it cute, especially because it was so regular; she had never thought Ancom would actually get used to some kind of routine. Maybe it just needed to be a routine that was to their liking.

She had never felt so enamored before. Ancom’s adorable habits and micro-gestures made her swoon, but she appreciated being challenged on her views every once in a while by someone who actually seemed to care. She was used to her friends berating her ideas because they were ‘too radical’ or ‘too much’ or whatnot, but Ancom never said that. They’d call her a statist and a bootlicker, sometimes even a tyrant, often getting very emotional over Commie’s dry excursions on theory, but never because Commie was going too far. Only because they believed she was going in the wrong direction.

She often wondered what Ancom actually wanted. They seemed to be against plenty of methods, but it was a little unclear how they planned to get to their gender euphoric utopia if they were unwilling to use organized force.

Of course, they’d say organized force was fine, as long as it wasn’t organized by the state. Commie would argue that if that organized force became the mainstream, it would be indistinguishable from a state, usually earning herself a pouty speech and a glare.

She was getting dressed for her day at classes. Ancom sat cross legged on what Commie would at this point call ‘their’ bed, painting their nails.

“Is this color cool?” they asked, twirling their fingers at Commie.

“It’s black, so, sure.”

“It’s not black!” they pulled back their hand, examining the nails again. “It’s got sparkles in it.”

“Oh, yes, sparkles. Very cool,” Commie ruffled their hair.

“Hey, I don’t make fun of your weird spy outfits either.”

She chuckled. “You look very comely with the nails, Anarkitty, don’t worry.”

“Do they look at least a little bit like menacing claws?” they shook their hands to dry the polish.

“As menacing as your cute little hands can look.” She was met with a glare. “Which obviously means very.”

Ancom sighed and flopped down on the bed.

She picked up one of their legs, kissing their foot before dropping it again. Her lover always looked ready to eat.

“I like your nails. Very scratchy,” she winked.

“Sure you do. Where are you going today?”

“Classes, where else? Do you think I’m meeting other people?”

“No,” Ancom furrowed their brows and picked up a pillow to hug it to their chest. “How’s that engineering degree treating you?”

“I don’t have it yet,” Commie packed her bag, “but I do like it.”

Ancom blew a raspberry. “Don’t bullshit me. Nobody likes math.”

“Of course people like math.”

“Don’t believe you.”

“Trust me, some people really love it.”

“Do _you?”_

Commie swayed her head. “I like it fine, but I’m mostly in this for the tanks.”

Ancom sat up. “Tanks? I thought you do something with buildings.”

“And bridges, yes. I’m not making tanks for this society, but if the next wants me, I’ll already have the base skills to get into it.”

Ancom lay back down. “You’re weird.”

“So are you,” she kissed the tip of their nose one last time before leaving; maybe she could kind of see why Ancap called the two of them sickeningly sweet.

If Libertarian wasn’t going to stop harassing Ancap about the stupid contract she was going to have to shoot her. They had just had yet another meeting, as pointless as all of them had been. If she didn’t know better she’d think her cousin was just trying to get her attention; sadly, it seemed like it was the lawyer gal that she was really infatuated with.

Driving up to the apartment building, Nazi was already there, waiting to get into the car with her. After awkwardly avoiding her for several days, Nazi had eventually caved in and talked to her again when she offered to sell her earplugs one particularly noisy night. Nazi gladly paid the markup and had been relatively mellow ever since, even proposing to go to the gun range again.

She felt it was good that they got to hang out; the heartache Ancap pretended to herself wasn’t there from Ancom choosing Commie over her was soothed immensely by her and Nazi's snippy conversations, always including at least one jab at the new couple. It still stung to see them snuggled up on Commie’s couch to watch a movie or playfully kissing in the kitchen, but it just wasn’t as bad when she knew she could vent about it to Nazi later.

They arrived at the range. The pretty blonde got out of the car enthusiastically, nearly ripping her rifle out of its case while Ancap walked over to the booth to sign them in.

She walked to Nazi’s stand; she was a really great shot. Considering how clumsy she had been that one night, it was truly amazing she could handle the rifle this well. She always went for the targets particularly far away and she never missed. Ancap was just a little jealous.

She wasn’t a bad shot or anything herself, but she focused her technique on close targets and effect shots; she’d be damned if she ever actually had to fight in a war where she’d need to be able to hit at those distances; it was much more likely somebody would break in or attack her on the street.

Ancap’s phone buzzed. A text from Libertarian.

“You look annoyed,” Nazi noted.

Ancap looked up momentarily. “Yeah, it’s my cousin.”

“The thief?”

“No, the business major,” Ancap explained as she typed. “She keeps going on and on about how I tricked her out of her share of the apartment building. It’s getting old.”

“Is your trickery coming back to haunt you?” Nazi taunted as she took her next shot, hitting dead center.

Exhaling sharply, Ancap replaced her phone and walked up to the stand. “I don’t know why everyone keeps saying I trick people. I give them proposals and it’s their own damn fault if they take them when they don’t really want to. That’s their responsibility.” She shot five times at the nearest target, hitting every time. “And I’m pretty sure she’s just doing it to impress her lawyer friend.”

Nazi made a face. “Why is everyone around me so abnormal?”

Jiggling the shells out of her revolver, Ancap had to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me. You know I’m right.”

“I don’t know what about you is right, if I’m honest,” Ancap said, sitting down at a nearby bench to examine one of the other guns she had brought.

Nazi sat down with her, lovingly taking apart her rifle to clean it.

“For someone so misunderstood you have little empathy for your fellow in misery.”

“Look, seriously,” Ancap put down her pistol, leaning a little across the table to lower her voice, “all the other stuff is fine, but what is your obsession with Ancom?”

Nazi rolled her eyes. “Jesus, are you still not over that?”

“I just don’t get it.”

“I’m not obsessed with her. I just don’t want her around.”

“Why not?”

Nazi sighed. “Because she’s a useless twat. At least Commie kind of, sort of gets her to do stuff nowadays, but you know just as well as me that that’s not going to last forever. She’ll go back to being a worthless dipshit again once Commie loosens her grip even a little bit.”

Unconvinced, Ancap raised her brows, reaching for the now cooled down pistol to clean it.

“You didn’t like her from the very beginning. You couldn’t have known that then.”

“Oh,” Nazi chuckled derisively, “couldn’t I have? Or maybe I, you, and everyone else could have known beforehand. Maybe it was really obvious.”

Ancap sighed.

“Don’t sigh at me. I get it, it’s not fun to hear, but there’s a difference between you, me, Commie, even some of those freaks next door, and Ancom. Only one measurable difference. And once you accept that, you will see that pattern more and more often, until you can never unsee it. And then you’ll never rent your apartment out to someone who you know won’t pay rent ever again.”

Ancap snorted unhappily, proceeding to put her revolver back together.

“How’s it actually going on those leech paychecks?”

“The affirmative action ones? I got the first one in the mail; gotta say, not as much as I thought. Ancom didn’t apply to all the benefits, somehow.”

Nazi chuckled. “That much of a snowflake and still not eligible for everything?”

“Somehow. But better than nothing.”

Short silence.

“She’s still not going to classes, by the way,” Nazi said as she went back to the stand with her normal pistol.

“I know,” Ancap sighed. “I know.”

Ancap dropped Nazi off at her evening shift on the way home.

“It’s good that you work for your own money,” she remarked as she parked the car while Nazi struggled to change into her uniform while still in her seat.

“Right, I wanted independence from my parents.” She slipped on her worker boots.

Ancap nodded, pushing up her sunglasses to get a better view of the train station. She had never been there, preferring to instead take the car. The several hour long drive between the campus town and her home was annoying, but definitely superior to having to take a train.

“Independence is important. Otherwise you can’t grow.”

“True,” Nazi began buttoning up her shirt. She transformed into a whole new person in the dark blue uniform. “My family wanted to restrict me in my views, and I didn’t wish to bow to that.”

“Restrict you in your views?” Ancap faced Nazi, forlornly looking out of the windshield.

“I made my views on immigration and such clear to them once and for all some summers ago. They said to take it back or...”

Ancap giggled. “Did they disown you?”

Nazi didn’t seem to see the humor, something between defiance and regret marring her face. “Not quite. But I won’t stand for their luring and goading with their money gifts. I’m on my own, but that’s alright. I’m not answering to them anymore.”

The last birds of fall chirped in the tall pines surrounding the station. A brunette girl wearing the same uniform as Nazi walked up to the station, paying the car no heed. Nazi mumbled something about an impressive change in attitude towards punctuality, but it was swallowed by the sudden gust of wind hitting the car.

“I would’ve thought family is important to you.”

Judging by the sudden straightening of her back, Nazi took the statement as a wake up call from whatever vague trance she had found herself in before. “Family is important. It’s the core unit of any functional society. But a family of degenerates is worthless.”

Ancap shook her head, starting up the motor. “You’re like Commie. Politics above all else,” she grinned, though it wasn’t quite genuine.

Nazi’s hand rested on the doorhandle for a moment. “We’re all traitorous in this apartment,” she said before exiting the vehicle to follow the brunette from before into the booth.

The sentence rung in Ancap’s ears as she drove back to the apartment building. It wasn’t the sentiment itself that was ominous – she was used to being called much worse than just traitorous – but the fact that Nazi had inexplicably thrown herself into a pot not only with her, but Ancom. She swallowed as she made the turn across the bridge. When she got out of the car, something seemed off. Stepping into the elevator, the feeling became more intense until, reaching the top floor, she noticed what it was.

It smelled like fire. Fire and drugs.

She already wanted to rush into her wacky neighbors’ flat when she distinctly noted that the smell – and quite a bit of noise – came from the left. Her apartment.

She hurried inside, immediately hearing the laughter, muffled music coming from shitty phone speakers, and smelled the terrible, encumbering stench of burning come from Ancom’s broom closet.

She knocked loudly and fervently, and the door was opened to reveal around a dozen people sitting huddled close together in Ancom’s room, some smoking, some dancing, some seemingly engaged in sex. The stench of pot was overwhelming, even stronger than the fire someone had started on Ancom’s mattress; it was hard to see in the room as the smoke cast everything into a dank haze, the shitty light from the bulb not exactly helping.

In the far corner of the room, Ancom lounged, throwing a limp peace sign at Ancap.

Ignoring them, Ancap ran to the kitchen, filling the largest container at hand with water, and carrying it back to the room to douse the small fire on the mattress with it.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” slurred the person who had clearly been tending to it before.

“Ancom. Get over here,” Ancap commanded icily.

“But it’s so comfy,” they cooed, sinking further into themselves on their perch on the mattress.

“ _Ancom_.”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” Ancom stumbled over their friends, nearly slipping on the wet floor by the mattress. Ancap was slightly worried they were going to step on one of the many shards littering the floor, but not as worried as she was about her investment burning down.

“What is this?” Ancap sharply gestured at the room. To her absolute horror one of the zombies took the open door as a sign to wander out and over to the kitchen.

“A little get together,” Ancom chirped innocently.

“Get rid of them. Now.”

They scrunched up their face. “No! Fuck you.”

“You can’t set fire to my private property,” Ancap’s voice rose.

“It’s my room, right? I can do whatever I want.” Ancom might as well have stuck out their tongue. “You host big parties all the time. Why can’t I?”

“Because,” Ancap watched with ever growing shock as more visitors took it upon themselves to follow the zombie to the kitchen, seemingly unaware that there was a fight happening, “this is a fire hazard. And the whole fucking building reeks of drugs, and I mean more than just pot. Someone might call the cops.”

“Fuck the police!” Ancom exclaimed. Their friends broke into an ACAB chant.

Ancap tried to respond, but Ancom was much too busy joining the chant they had created to listen. Desperate, Ancap shut them up with their hand over their mouth. “If the police come here, you know who gets to pay? Me. You don’t know half of what they could find that would _ruin_ me.”

Ancom bit into her hand. Ancap shouted, jumping back in surprise. That was a proper bite.

“Serves you right, capitalist!” they swayed lightly as they stood. “If-,” they hiccuped, “if you didn’t screw everyone over all the time, you wouldn’t have to be so scared. Or maybe someone would actually come to help you,” they laughed, sauntering off into the kitchen as well.

Ancap was getting increasingly panicked, the plain amount of individuals Ancom had amassed in their flat and their foggy state of mind opening the door to so many different ways Ancap could get _screwed._ She was beginning to hyperventilate.

The door opened behind her. Commie was home.

Ancap whipped around, pushing the taller girl back into the door more through will than strength.

“You!” she yelled. Commie looked very concerned, only slowly taking in the state of the apartment as she was focused on her stressed out roommate. “Fix this!”

“Fix wha-”

“Are you blind? I just extinguished a fucking fire!” Ancap shouted, the tinny music from the phone speakers being surprisingly loud. “Get Ancom to call off whatever the fuck this is!”

Commie looked around the corridor, still backed against the door and Ancap pointing her bony fingers menacingly up at her.

“No.”

Ancap stepped back, disbelieving. “What do you mean, _no_? Do it before someone calls the goddamn police!”

More chants from the kitchen. Ancap was this close to fetching her gun and finishing this herself; she would have if she hadn’t thought she’d lose.

“Ancom doesn’t like it when I order them around,” she inched around Ancap staring up at her with twitching eyes, trying to get to her room.

“They’re going to fuck up the whole apartment if they don’t burn it down beforehand!” Ancap desperately called after Commie disappearing behind her door. She kicked the wood in anger and frustration, mind racing on how to proceed. She didn’t want to leave the building in case Ancom’s shitty friends got even worse ideas than they already had, but she had to do something.

Making up her mind, she picked up her phone and left the apartment.

She was done with her call when she got out on the ground floor, where Libertarian stood with some of their other cousins, agitatedly arguing about what Ancap assumed to be the stench.

“What is going on up there?” Minarchist asked when she saw her.

Ancap waved her off. “Getting it under control now. If you want to help, keep them from setting fire to the building. Or worse.”

“It stinks,” Hoppean noted, nose curled up.

“Yes. Like drugs. I know,” Ancap just kept walking to get to her car as quickly as possible.

“Where are you going?” Libertarian hurried after her. “I’m coming with you!”

They got into the car together.

“Where are we driving?”

“ _24/7 Security_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, a mini-cliffhanger! At least there's disgustingly sweet fluff at the start. And hey, the Ancapistan fam is together now.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the drama!


	15. Chapter 15

Commie had her door closed, trying hard to ignore the cajoling and clanking coming from the kitchen and Ancom’s room. Right outside her own room two men were having a conversation about who had the weirder toenail. Their slow, drawn out speech made them impossible to overhear; whenever her ears wanted to turn their voices into steady background noise, they stopped talking, and when she got used to the relative silence, they spoke up again.

She sat over her mechanics homework, staring at the contraption she was supposed to describe, but no thoughts came. None related to the subject at hand at least.

She took a sip from her emergency vodka bottle under the table. Had Ancom announced their plan for a party? She couldn’t remember anything of the sort, but she often only half-listened to her lover’s absentminded ramblings. It was impossible to admit after Ancap had so crudely attempted to order her around, but had Commie come home to this fiasco unmolested, she would’ve had a stern talking to with Ancom out of her own accord. It was fine to invite friends over, but so many at the same time without giving your roommates a heads up was insultingly inconsiderate.

Her door opened and Ancom stumbled in. Their clothes were stained with a mystery liquid and their eyes near painfully reddened from the weed. Its stench wafted into Commie’s room with Ancom and she had to scrunch up her nose.

“Heeey,” they drew out the greeting as they tripped into Commie’s lap, “why don’t you come out and say hello?”

Ancom’s pupils were dilated and they could barely keep themselves upright without Commie’s hands instinctively coming up to steady them. Question seemingly forgotten, they leaned in to sloppily trail kisses along Commie’s neck. The latter wound out from under them, gently placing Ancom on the chair to get up and quickly close her door before one of their freakish friends thought to enter.

“Why’re you closing the door?” Ancom slithered from the chair, bones made of rubber. They really loved laying around on the floor when they were high. “Maybe someone wants to join in on our action.” They looked at the ceiling, arching their back at nothing. “That’d be super hot.”

Commie made a face. “I prefer having sex with you alone,” she walked over and helped a resisting Ancom onto the bed. She barely even recognized them. Ancom was high often, but it usually turned them cuddly and needy, not lewd.

“Boring,” Ancom drawled, trying and failing to draw Commie down on the bed with them. “Don’t be so stubborn, I’m horny! Let’s _fuck_. It can just be the two of us if you’re that prude.”

“Stop, Anarkitty. You’re not even really here right now. Why did you invite so many people over? And why does it smell like fire?”

Ancom huffed. “When Ancap does it, it’s a party. When I do it, it’s...it’s..,” they lost their train of thought, unfocused eyes following an invisible speck of dust.

Something shattered in the kitchen. Commie stayed put; Ancom didn’t react at all.

“Moonshine lit the fire. We wanted to see if the mattress would burn.”

“That’s dangerous,” Commie reprimanded.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Ancom sounded more annoyed than they possibly could have been in their state of inebriation, “I was lonely, alright? You’re always at college and Ancap is always trying to get something out of me and Posadist is so creepy and I just wanted to hang out with someone, okay? Jesus.” Their voice turned into a childish whine at the end.

“Why didn’t you hang out at their place? Or at the park?”

Ancom bolted upright. “Because I live here! This is my flat, too, and I get to have friends over!”

“Not friends that try to burn the furniture!” Commie shot back, getting increasingly frustrated with high Ancom.

“Why are you two so obsessed with that fire? Nothing happened!” They flopped down on the bed again, eyes glazing over.

“Anarkitty?” Commie crouched down next to them, hand fluttering over their neck to check their pulse. “Should I call a doctor?”

“I’m fine,” Ancom thrashed, unceremoniously dropping out of bed and onto the floor. “I’m not that fragile. My _friends_ know that, unlike you.”

“Maybe your friends don’t care about you like I do,” Commie sadly looked after Ancom unsteadily wobbling towards the door. They left without responding.

Exhaling sharply, Commie slouched on the ground, kicking the door closed with her foot. It stank horribly; she was getting a headache.

That wasn’t her Ancom. It was a gross imitation of who she was in love with, possessing their body and defiling it further with those substances. She felt like crying.

Nazi was right. No, she didn’t like it. It screwed with her idea of freedom, but Nazi was right. It was always easy to pretend she was wrong when the facts didn’t glare Ancap in the face.

Stupid piece of shit hippie who couldn’t for the life of them be useful. She was stupid for ever thinking that they had a place on her property. That’s what kindness got her.

Libertarian had been ranting about the stench and how antisocial the whole situation had been for the entire car ride, only shutting up to let Ancap make her deal with the owner of 24/7 Security; he was very understanding of her need for immediate support and wonderfully willing to offer any services whatsoever for the right price. A truly great businessman running an amazing business. Maybe she’d take it over at some point.

“What are you gonna do with the guards?” her cousin asked as they drove back.

“If necessary, throw the hippies out by force. And keep them out.” Ancap deeply exhaled. “But I’m hoping the guard’s presence will be enough.”

She stared at the road ahead, grip tight on the wheel.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was neither cold nor warm, but just comforting and Ancap felt her tight tendons loosen under it.

“Slow down a little bit. I’m scared you’re gonna explode. Or cause an accident.”

Ancap made a conscious effort to seem calm. “It’s- I got it under control. Or, will, in a minute. Any news from the home front?”

Libertarian checked her phone. “No, nothing. It still stinks and the noise has gotten worse, but Minarchist says there have been no more fires. Though Hoppean apparently suggested starting one in front of your apartment to smoke them out.”

“Probably wouldn’t work.”

“That’s what Minarchist said as well.”

They pulled up into the driveway. Ancap checked her wristwatch as the hired guards got out of their van. She’d time how long this would take.

The guards took the stairs as she rode the elevator alone, ordering Libertarian to stay with their other cousins downstairs to keep out any eventual police.

In the hallway, she was greeted by Nazi, standing three feet away from Homonationalist clearly trying to use the situation to her advantage. Admirable, but pointless if Ancap’s conversations with Nazi had been any indication.

“There you are! I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but the door is fucking locked from the inside and it stinks like shit!” she huffed, wildly gesticulating at the door.

Any further complaints were silenced by Ancap holding up her hand and the guards coming out of the stairwell door.

“I got this,” she grinned.

She knocked. Sometimes Nazi wondered how those weakish, bony hands could knock so much louder than everyone else.

“ _Fuck off_!” someone called out from the inside.

“Don’t make me break down that door,” Ancap cooed; she finally felt in control of the situation again. Her usual aloof attitude was coming back to her.

It was Commie who ripped open the door after struggling with the lock for some seconds. She swallowed when she saw the dozen or so guards Ancap had brought with her.

“Hi, Commie, good to see you. Would you mind telling your little girlfriend to have her friends vacate the property?”

“They’re not my girlfriend.”

Ancap’s wide grin froze on her face. “I’m not arguing about technicalities with you, Commie. Do it or I’ll have my guards dump them all into the river.”

Commie looked behind herself. The hallway was trashed, bits and pieces of weed, both the drug and literal weeds, littered on the floor together with scraps of paper, shards, and some indiscernible bodily fluids. How their guests had managed to create such a mess in such a short time eluded her.

But it made her angry. Those people were a horrible influence and she wanted them to leave so that she could put Ancom to bed and have them sleep off their shitty high.

She marched into the kitchen where Ancom was lounging on the floor with a friend, watching something on the friend’s phone.

“Ancom,” Commie said sternly.

They looked up. “Yeah?”

“Your friends have to go.”

Ancom scrunched their brows. “You said you weren’t gonna order me around anymore.”

“Just do it before something worse happens.”

Ancom got to their feet, glaring up at Commie with dark eyes. “Okay, seriously, can you guys stop pretending that me throwing a small party is such a big deal?” They sounded less high and more like the real Ancom, but Commie wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just a fluke.

“There’s trash everywhere. I said I wasn’t going to order you around, but you can’t take that to mean that you can do whatever you want.”

“A little trash never hurt anyone! Who cares?”

“ _I_ care, Ancom. So do your other roommates. We have to cooper-”

Ancom exasperatedly threw their hands up. “Fucking hell, I don’t give a shit about what fascists think-”

Commie had enough. She roughly pushed Ancom into the kitchen counter, hissing at them. “It’s great to hear you don’t give a shit about me, but you’re going to make your friends leave _or else_.”

“Or else what?” Ancom spat.

Commie released them and called out into the hallway, never breaking eye contact with Ancom. “Go ahead, kulak.”

It was immensely satisfying to see the worthless drug zombies that had sullied her precious Anarkitty being manhandled out of the apartment; bit by bit, the dirty stains were removed out of sight, Ancom watching as if they had been turned into stone. Some resisted, but never by a lot; the gruff security guards left no room for discussion. In the end, only Ancom was left. Commie exited the kitchen when Ancap strolled in. She only caught snippets of the capitalist threatening Ancom in a roundabout way, heard when she mentioned that the guards would be moving into the building.

“But I’m not going to throw you out, don’t worry. Very kind of me, right?” she smirked before disappearing behind her door.

Next to Commie, Nazi cackled quietly. “Finally, we’re going to get some order here,” she said as she slipped into her room as well.

Only Ancom and Commie were left, staring at each other through the hallway.

A second passed.

And another.

Commie waited with baited breath for Ancom to insult her, attack her. Maybe run away.

They started crying.

“Anarkitty?”

“Don’t call me that!” they shouted.

Neither of them moved from their spots.

“Is that what you wanted? Private police living with us?” they hiccuped through their tears, standing alone in the deserted, dirty kitchen.

“I wanted order.”

Ancom scoffed. “Of course you did.” They broke out into more hiccups, tears blubbering out of them as they slid to the kitchen floor; Commie rushed over, kneeling next to them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You seemed like you didn’t care about me and I,” she helplessly watched as Ancom continued crying into their knees, unsure of whether or not to touch them. “I just, I was angry and I, I love you and-”

“Pathetic,” Nazi walked past them, pouring herself a cup of water. She was in and out before Commie could react. She considered heavily to run after Nazi and throw her out of the window.

Ancom sniffled. “That was cute.”

_Was it though?_

They leaned against Commie. “Can we pretend today didn’t happen?” they whispered.

“Sure. If you want to.” She hesitantly wrapped her arm around Ancom to pull them closer.

“That means you have to protect me if Ancap tries to throw me out,” they clarified, pouting slightly.

Bittersweet laughter escaped her. “I think Ancap has proven at this point that she won’t even throw you out if actually do burn down the building.” She leaned her head against Ancom’s. “But still don’t do it,” she quickly added.

“I’m not that destructive,” Ancom replied defensively.

“What if Nazi owned the house?”

“Then I might be persuaded to throw one or two Molotovs,” they giggled.

“As you should, my little anarchist,” Commie kissed the top of their head.

Only the ticking of the clock and the gentle whir of Nazi’s sowing machine filled the room. Commie was so tired. The soft up and down of her lover’s breathing could’ve put her to sleep.

“What’s going to happen now?” Ancom asked quietly.

Commie sighed. “Nothing.”

“But those guards...”

More sighing. “Right. Well. Ancap probably underpays them, so I doubt they’ll do quality work.”

“I don’t think that that’s how this works.”

Probably the most reasonable thing she’d ever heard Ancom say.

“Yeah, well. Maybe they’ll revolt.”

Ancom laughed. It sounded squeaky. Like _her_ Ancom.

“We could try to convince Ancap to pay them even lower wages so they’ll revolt earlier. Or just quit.”

“How accelerationist of you,” Commie nudged them lightly.

“I learned that from Posadist. You should hear her ideas on how to get to fair wages. Or no wages at all I guess...I still don’t get socialism to be honest. Please don’t try to explain it now.”

Commie snapped her mouth shut.

“But I’m guessing you also don’t understand being nonbinary, do you?” Ancom was rambling, but Commie was so glad to be able to hear it.

“Have you ever even wondered what that means? Being nonbinary?”

Commie shrugged. “It means that it makes you happy when I refer to you as ‘they’. That’s all that matters to me.”

Ancom looked off to the side.

“Sure. I guess.”

“What do you say we get to bed?” Commie suggested when she noticed Ancom beginning to brood.

“Let me guess. We should sleep early because there’s a lot of cleaning to be done tomorrow?” Ancom sighed, letting themselves be helped up by Commie.

“Maybe I just want to be in bed with you for comfort.”

Ancom blushed, turning to hug Commie.

“I love you,” Commie muttered into their hair.

Ancom mumbled something into her chest that she couldn’t understand. But it was also three syllables. She held them tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as angst? It definitely counts as drama XD
> 
> A little shorter this time because there wasn't much else to say about the current situation and I didn't want to artificially dilute it if I didn't have to. Please enjoy!


	16. Chapter 16

Things changed. They didn’t change a lot; for outsiders, the change would have been imperceptible, but everyone involved knew.

Ancap didn’t hang out with the leftists anymore at all; instead, she went back to spending more of her time with her cousins. Suited her better anyway. She had been purposefully avoiding them until they’d forget about being played out of their shares of the house, but otherwise, she much preferred her family to the crazy ideologues she lived with. She still took her breakfasts with Nazi and went to the gun range with her, but as much as Nazi had approved of the move of the guards into the building to create order, she seemed to grow severely uncomfortable around them. Ancap figured it was because most of them were brown, or even worse, black.

But she didn’t give a shit. No more beating around the bush. It was her apartment building and she made the rules.

She found the change positive. Her pesky heartache over Ancom had disappeared entirely after she had seen the sad display of what they seemed to think was good company, so she could finally go back to focusing on her old plans. She was trying to grow an empire out of this campus housing business, after all.

Libertarian had forgiven her for all her imaginary crimes after the move in of the securities as well. That was lovely; they always had gotten along so wonderfully in the past.

These days, Libertarian checked her tax reports and waded through the legalese Ancap didn’t feel like putting up with. Ancap knew that was at least in part because her lawyer friend ended up charging Libertarian a fee that she couldn’t afford on top of rent, and Ancap paid her for her services, but so what? She did the work and in turn didn’t end up homeless, what’s not to like? And she was pretty sure Libertarian outsourced the tasks she didn’t like to their other cousins.

Ancap found the new arrangement peaceful. Mornings with Nazi, forenoons with her stocks, lunches with Libertarian and her status reports, afternoons with stocks or Nazi at the range, and evenings playing cards with her cousins. Nazi had even once joined in on a friendly game between her and Hoppean; it had been fun to see the two horrible racists argue over how to create ‘homogeneity’.

She was painting her nails with the polish she had bought from Ancom; they had been rather overly awkward about selling it to her, barely even meeting her eyes, but the polish was quite funky. Ancom was a dolt, but they had style.

Hands held up unnaturally to let the polish dry, she sauntered over to the kitchen and carefully picked up a bottle of champagne from the fridge. She pushed up her sunglasses to check the label; great, it wasn’t the decoy she had bought in case her roommates got any stupid ideas.

Still mindful of her nails, she retrieved a flute from the cupboard and opened the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t you think that robe is a little much?” Ancom appeared next to her, fetching themselves some oat milk.

“You’re the one eating oat flakes with oat milk,” she cooed. Her robe was fabulous, and she wouldn’t hear any different; it was golden and lavish and suited her new position as a quasi queen of the apartment building much better.

“I like your earrings, though,” Ancom hopped up on the counter to eat their oat and oat milk concoction.

“They’re awesome, right?” she ran her fingers along the colorful feathers fixed to the chain dangling from her lobes, cursing when her still very wet nail polish got caught in her hair. Ancom giggled devilishly.

They did that on purpose, the little goblin. Ancap examined the damage, champagne glass in the other hand; it was salvageable, but not great.

“You worry about where you’re going to go once those affirmative action checks don’t pay your rent anymore,” she said, inflection haughty, “or how you’re going to afford food when Commie stops paying for you.”

Ancom swallowed, watching Ancap stroll back to her room; it wasn’t their fault she looked ridiculous in the huge, gaudy robe, her bony limbs sticking out like toothpicks and skin starkly pale against the sparkly golden fabric.

They stared into their oats.

 _When Commie stops paying for you_.

As if on command, Commie joined them, throwing them one of those forlorn, needy looks they were slowly but surely getting much too used to. She grabbed a fresh bottle of vodka for her personal use; Ancom had complained from the start that she was a god damn hypocrite for berating them about drugs when she drank like an alcoholic, but at this point Ancom was beyond the point of suspicion that Commie had a serious drinking problem. From the bottles she stored next to her bed to the absurd speed she finished them at, Commie was rather prone to hiding behind alcohol.

She poured herself a shot. Hesitating for a moment, she took out another glass and poured a second one, pushing it over to Ancom. They eyed it for a moment before throwing it back.

Commie shifted closer. Ancom didn’t respond. Another small shift. Ancom leaned slightly away.

“Anarkitty,” Commie said, though her pronunciation wasn’t exactly perfect.

“Commie.”

“This is painful,” she pulled away, leaning against the counter a foot away from where Ancom was sitting.

They frowned at their oats. “I’m sorry I guess.”

Commie lolled her head to the side. “Don’t be sorry. Just...talk to me? I-,” she sighed, angling her gaze at the ceiling, “I’m confused. We still share a room. We still make love. But. Yo- you look at me like a deer in headlights during the day.”

Ancom didn’t answer, instead eating another spoonful.

“Will this purgatory ever be over? I don’t want to pressure you, I love you, but- I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“I don’t see the problem,” they said dryly. “Everything’s fine.”

Commie turned towards them, trying to move closer. Ancom shifted away. "Nothing is fine! I really, really apologize for how harsh I was with you, but you don’t seem to be able to forgive at all!”

“I don’t believe you,” Ancom chuckled under their breath.

“What did you say?”

“Do you actually mean any of the things you say?” Ancom faced her.

“Of course I do!”

“I still feel like you’ll go right back to trying to control me the moment I forgive you.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“Not really,” Nazi threw in, having just come in to grab her leftovers. She wasn’t really looking at either of them, focusing on the fridge instead. “Going to have to side with the mongrel on this one.”

Ancom flinched when Commie very suddenly pinned Nazi against the fridge, causing her to drop her Tupperware.

“You keep out of our business, _fascist_ ,” she growled.

Nazi looked...fearful instead of defiant. She tried to make herself small, but was impeded by Commie’s fists pinning her down. Ancom noticed her hands shaking and her knees pressed together even when she schooled her face back into a somewhat proud mask.

Commie roughly pushed her against the fridge, squeezing the air out of her lungs, and Nazi dropped to her knees, picking up the dropped leftovers. Her eyes met Ancom’s for a moment, and in that moment, the usual disgust was washed away in favor of something akin to a warning. She scrambled to her feet and back to her room, leaving a flushed and shaken Commie in her wake.

She ran a hand through her hair, the other resting on her hip. Ancom watched as her chest heaved while she tried to regain her senses.

“Sorry. Nazi riles me up.”

Ancom nodded. “Same,” they said, but it didn’t make sense in this context. Autopilot was responsible for that one.

“Where were we?”

“Doesn’t matter,” they hopped off of the counter, putting their bowl into the sink. “Let’s go to bed.”

Nazi furiously tacked two pieces of fabric together; her hands weren’t quite doing what she wanted them to, fingers feeling frozen from before. She pricked her finger, but didn’t even curse. She pulled it out from under the fabric to not stain the pure whiteness with the red of her blood, watching in fascination as the droplet made its way down her fingers. It left a trail in the grooves of her skin, much lighter than the dark drop itself. It traveled down her palm, over to her wrist where she licked it off, unwilling to sacrifice the shirt she was wearing.

She feared that she wasn’t being subtle anymore. She perked up her ears whenever she heard Ancom’s shuffling or Commie’s stomping aiming towards the kitchen, hoping that they’d start to fight. The screwed up voyeurism from the cursed night with Ancap had twisted and transformed into an uncanny desire to listen in on their pathetic attempts to fix something that was clearly broken; she couldn’t help herself, forced by something inside of her to, more often than was probably wise, creep out of her room just to see. See up close, say something biting, help tear down the crumbling fortress of the leftists’ relationship.

For a second there, when Commie had slammed her into the fridge and the air left had her lungs, she had thought she was caught. Even when Commie had released her, she still expected her to call her out on her sick desire to watch them, but the stupid Slavic scum had been much too drunk and busy bemoaning her ruined bond with Ancom. It was her own fault; Commie was the most controlling person she’d _ever_ met, and Nazi had had to grow up with her mother. If Commie was planning on getting Ancom on board with her draconic personality she would have to be much more subtle about it.

Nazi had to be more careful in the future. The situation in the kitchen had painfully reminded her of when she and Commie had been behind the building and...she shook her head. No need to think the words. She had cleared that up with Ancap; she wasn’t gay, nor was she weak, she had been drunk and acting under duress. Apparently, Ancom didn’t even count drunk encounters as normal sex, or so Ancap had said.

She picked up the dress when she had finally finished it; it looked gorgeous. She had gone for more of a turquoise tone when making the skirt, and it paid off nicely, going well with her sky blue eyes and that one cute necklace she owned. The ruffles were delightfully girly and the cut fit snugly around her waist; she felt like a sweet flower or cupcake when she put it on.

She was already excited to wear it on her next date.

She checked her desk clock; it was way past midnight already. God, she always got carried away when sowing. Annoying, considering she wanted to get to sleep earlier, but at least the dress was finished. Twirling once more in the mirror, she went back to the kitchen for a late night snack.

She nearly had a heart attack when she noticed Ancom huddled in a corner, not having given any indication that they were there.

“Jesus Christ,” she put her hand over her chest, “you could make some noise announcing yourself.”

Ancom shot her a tired look.

“You look really nice.”

Nazi was about to say something snide in return, but thought better of it. “You think?”

“The dress is cute. Kinda girly, but I think you want that.”

She turned to the sandwich she was making herself. “Don’t think I’ll see you differently just because you give me compliments.”

“Yeah. I know. But you still look nice. Not talking about your insides.”

Nazi rolled her eyes at the sandwich.

“That’s probably why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

She just ignored them. They were the one dolefully crouching in a corner.

“Sorry. You’re valid without one, too. I just assumed you would want one. Which is fine. But-”

“Please shut up.”

They actually did. Relative silence spread around them as Nazi waited for the toaster to be done.

“Commie’s bed not comfy enough?”

No answer, just sad staring.

“You do have your own room.”

“I hate my room.”

Nazi chuckled. “Yeah, because it’s not even a real room.”

“Don’t you also want to call me broke and a dirty immigrant while you’re at it?”

“All facts.”

“You really, really suck. Do you even have a single friend?”

Nazi shrugged. “Sure. Ancap, for example.”

“Ancap hangs out with you because she wants to sell you guns. I doubt she likes you. She doesn’t like anyone.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you.”

Oh god. Oh god, no. Ancom started to cry. Nazi made a face at the pathetic display. She wanted to leave, but her toast wasn’t done yet and she refused to eat cold toast just because Ancom turned on the tear faucet.

“Yeah, right. No one likes me. I know. I fucking get it,” they hiccuped. “Actually, I don’t get it. I-”

“Because you’re stupid. Why do you keep hanging out with people who are obviously terrible for you? Something’s wrong with your brain,” Nazi interrupted them.

“I want to give everyone a chance,” they mumbled, sniffling.

“Well, that’s really fucking stupid.”

Ancom sighed. “Does it ever get strenuous to always have to be shitty to everyone?”

Nazi screwed up her nose. She swallowed the first acrid thing she wanted to spit at the person at her feet. “Sometimes. Your method doesn’t seem to be working in your favor either, though.”

Ancom looked even smaller than they were as they sunk further into their sweater, rubbing their tears into the overlong sleeves.

“You looked at me before. In the kitchen. What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Nazi chuckled derisively, “I don’t remember every look I make.”

Ancom leaned their head against the cabinet. “I thought you were trying to tell me something.”

 _Yes_.

“No. You can figure out your issues all by yourself. Have a good time with Commie dominating your every move. Suits your kind well.” She turned to leave, plate in hand.

She hesitated, but only for a moment, when the hiccuping started up again.

Commie laid awake. She heard the muffled voices coming from the kitchen, but she didn’t dare get up and interfere. If anything, talking to Nazi should push Ancom closer to her.

 _Or remind them of what they hate about you_.

She shook her head at the dark ceiling. She shouldn’t be so dramatic. Of course the whole situation put a strain on their relationship, especially with how anxious Ancom was around Ancap’s securities; Commie was largely unbothered by them, but the anarchist was rather allergic to any kind of police, even if they were underpaid arms for hire.

Nazi retreated to her room. Commie waited with baited breath for Ancom to return to her. A few seconds passed, then a few more. Did Nazi bother them, hurt them? Should she go check on them?

She reached next to the bed for her emergency bottle, taking a big swig out of it.

The door opened, slowly; she quickly stored the bottle away, pretending to sleep. Ancom stood in the middle of the room, looking out of the window by the bed. They took a few heavy steps, kneeling on the mattress next to Commie, feet tucked under them.

She wanted to reach out. Sit up, tie Ancom to the room by acknowledging that she could see them, that she knew they were here.

Just when the desire to just grab Ancom and pull them in threatened to burn her up, the mattress shifted and Ancom tapped out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short lil filler chapter to establish the new sitch around the gang, and finally some gosh darned interaction between Ancom and Authright! Aside from that little scene of Ancom cleaning their bedroom floor.
> 
> I am considering shortening my chapter length in general (to around this length). I like to keep it relatively consistent, but I do prefer reading short chapters myself; I thought my normal length IS short, but I've looked around and it's kinda not...if you have an opinion, let me know, otherwise I'll just experiment :)
> 
> Please enjoy!


	17. Chapter 17

The night was dark and cold, exacerbated by the intense feeling of loneliness seeping into their flesh. Ancom didn’t have a reason to feel that lonely, but they did. Commie was nothing if not overconscientious about courting their favor, pampering them even more than before, but Ancom hated it. The sweet kindnesses felt less like little morsels of affection and more like bribes. Maybe they were paranoid; they remembered Ancap’s literal bribes and how little they had meant and it still turned their stomach to think about it; it was hard not to project those negative feelings onto Commie’s gifts of food and attention.

They kicked a lonely stone on the street. It didn’t fly very far.

Maybe they didn’t feel lonely but deserted, uncomfortable in their own home. Ancap’s private police didn’t hang out in the hallways or anything of the sort, but she did have them move into two empty apartments on the top and ground floor and Ancom constantly felt their presence. Ancap made them feel it, too; little offhanded remarks someone less careful with their words might've said on accident, but were most definitely dropped purposefully by Ancap to ensure her tenants remembered who was in charge of ‘her property’.

She and her sleazy cousins ran the whole thing together now; from what Ancap had blabbered about while on the phone, Ancom had inferred she was planning on buying more of the campus housing in town. She was trying to create a monopoly if Commie’s predictions were correct.

Ancom should have probably just gone to their stupid sociology classes like Ancap had said. That fight had been the point where she had turned from charmingly sly to outright snaky.

Their feet carried them to the bridge. Somehow, they had known – or hoped – that the hooded black figure would sit there. They looked like they were freezing, curled up into themselves and slightly shivering.

“Hey,” Ancom said as they tentatively sat beside them. There was a slight gust of constant wind ghosting over the bridge, making it the worst location to brood in at these temperatures.

“Sup?” the figure said, blowing smoke.

“Do you remember me?”

“Sure do,” they took a long drag from their cigarette; too long it seemed, as they sputtered and coughed upon release. “Killed some fascists?”

“No,” Ancom sighed.

They sat in silence for a short while, Ancom searching their blurry mind for the words they wanted.

“You once said that there’s no reason to do anything,” they began, staring at the other side of the bridge.

The figure nodded, tossing their cigarette butt into the river before shaking another one from their pack with stiff fingers.

“Well, my roommate recently hired security to keep the rest of us in line.”

“Sounds like a dickhead,” they coughed again.

“You can say that again.” Ancom nearly lost their train of thought in the hypnotizing rushing noise from the river below. “Isn’t that a time to act?”

The figure leaned back. “Why would it be?”

“Because I feel threatened. Both the roof over my head and my livelihood are, at least indirectly,” Ancom turned their head towards them, hoping to catch a glimpse of emotion. Nothing. They stared back ahead. “And I’m pretty sure that the whole thing constitutes at least a little bit of slave labor, or some kind of fraud. Having the guards move into some of the empty flats as part of their pay seems...shady at best. That’s gotta be illegal.”

“Doubt it. But from the sound of it, your roomie did some business on the quiet.”

“I don’t know. Okay, probably. But I don’t care about that.”

“You should,” they shot Ancom a look. “You ask me if this is a time to act, but what action? Sure, things are bad and uncomfortable, but what to do about it? Do you want to threaten your roomie with physical violence, like you do with your fascists? He’s just going to send his guards on you-”

“She.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Ancom swallowed the desire to protest; they had just gotten the mysterious stranger to talk. That was more than they had expected.

“In any case, sure, there’s reason to act, just like there’s reason to try and stop fascists. There’s just no reason to do it the way you do. It doesn’t to shit. But here, you actually have some options, I think,” they broke out into another fit of coughs. “You just have to be a little niftier.”

Ancom rested their chin on their knees. They didn’t really know a way other than violence. Arguing never helped with these people, did it. What else was there?

The figure got to their feet, stretching their pale limbs. “Don’t you have better places to be on cold nights?”

“Warmer. Not better.”

“You won’t say that when the street really is your only option.”

They strode off before Ancom could respond. They wanted to talk to the stranger for much longer, ask them what options they meant, try to get more advice. And they wanted to ask them about them, who they were, why they always sat at the bridge, and why they actually wasted their time talking to a lonely anarchist wandering the streets at night.

Ancom was still lost in thought when they found their way back to the apartment building. It was already getting light out; as they walked through the foyer, they passed three of the securities going out for an early morning smoke. Ancom didn’t acknowledge them, but felt their gazes burn their skin, instinctively pulling their sweater lower to hide their thighs. They nearly ran to the elevator. If one of the guards were to whistle at them they’d lose it.

They snuck into the flat, silently closing the door behind them. When they turned around, Commie was standing there. She wasn’t overly steady on her feet, towering in the narrow corridor.

“You’re back,” she took a step closer.

“I am.”

Commie took another step, backing Ancom against the door. She radiated warmth and Ancom couldn’t help but sink into it, skin freezing cold from being outside so long.

“Do you want to go to bed?” Commie put her forehead against theirs, hand coming up to toy with their hair. She was so goddamn gentle and sweet and it was all a trick wasn’t it?

She leaned down, softly kissing Ancom, needy hands running over their sweater. Ancom wrapped their arms around her neck out of habit, pulling them closer together. That prompted Commie to pick up their legs and lift them against the door, legs instinctively crossing behind her back; the warmth became hot and Ancom held on tighter. Their fingers traced over a slight bump on the back of Commie’s neck, a bump they had traced often and never thought to ask about.

When Commie released them to take a breath and carry them over to the bedroom, they asked where she had gotten it from. They had shared their scars too, after all.

“Did you also get in a fight with fascists? Or the police?” they grinned. Maybe it wasn’t the right time; Commie was drunk and much more interested in peeling Ancom’s clothes off.

She only hesitated a second in her task to ponder the question.

“Something like that.”

She continued, taking off Ancom’s cat stockings. Their breath hitched as the warm fingers lightly traced their thigh, thoughts blurring at the mere touch. It was so hard to stay concentrated when Commie’s burning looks strafed them. They felt like they were two magnets, just far enough away from each other to not yet fly by their own accord and connect, but the moment was imminent.

Nazi nervously fidgeted with her phone. She was up even earlier than Ancap for a change, and she was glad about not having to hear her grating lilt right now.

She had been invited to a family wedding.

Twirling the phone in her hands, she tried to think of what to do. She didn’t want to go. She hated going. Family gatherings of any kind made her nauseous, but a whole wedding? Torturous.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn’t even notice Ancom walk into the kitchen.

“What are you doing up?” she asked absentmindedly when the running faucet alerted her of the intruder.

“Getting a glass of water before going to bed.”

Nazi threw them a sideways glance. She frowned when she realized Ancom was pants-less, hiding their shame only under their sweater. Gross.

“You okay?” Ancom looked concerned.

“Have you got nothing better to do than pretend to give a shit about me? I hate you and you hate me,” she muttered, going back to staring at the invitation message glaring at her from her phone screen.

Ancom seemed to try to read what it said from their spot near the sink. They weren’t very subtle.

“Jesus Christ,” Nazi snapped, locking her phone. “I got invited to a wedding, alright?”

Gulping down their water, Ancom leaned against the counter. “The one that got away?” they smirked.

What got them so chipper all of a fucking sudden? They’d been doom and gloom ever since Ancap took control of her property. Nazi had preferred that.

“No. I’m not on good terms with the family, if you must know,” she stated as dryly as possible.

Ancom’s face fell and they lowered their glass. Nazi ignored them in favor of pretending to be able to brood while they were staring at her with puppy eyes.

“I’m not on good terms with my family either,” they said after a second.

Before Nazi could respond something snarky about not wanting their pity, Commie wobbled into the room, right over to Ancom to throw an arm over their shoulder.

“What are you doing here so long?” she asked, accent so much more noticeable when she was drunk. Or maybe Nazi was more irritable right now. She didn’t know.

Less nervous since Commie’s entry dissolved any notion of intimacy the scene was threatening to gain, Nazi stared unabashedly at the pair. Ancom’s eyes flitted insecurely from Commie to her and back, clearly struggling for words. Nazi rested her head in her palm, blankly watching Ancom’s budding compassion be drowned in Commie’s overbearing affections.

She would have leered at their discomfort if she hadn’t deep, deep down hoped she might get some of that compassion.

As it was, Commie dragged away her little lover, showering them in kisses and slurred sweet nothings as if Nazi wasn’t even there.

She sighed when they were gone. She needed a date for that stupid wedding.

Now it was Ancap’s turn to show up in the kitchen and make herself her usual early morning tea. Sometimes Nazi wondered why she even bothered; that caffeine couldn’t be doing anything for her under the effect of the drugs.

“Doesn’t someone look glum,” she commented as she turned on the water kettle.

“Why are you people suddenly so concerned with me?” Nazi crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

“Maybe you look especially like you’re going to kill everyone,” Ancap suggested. “But you know I’ve always cared.”

Nazi rolled her eyes at the lilt at the end.

“So what is it?” the brunette slid into her usual chair. She was wearing that weird gaudy robe again. Or still. Nazi switched rapidly between hating the sparkly affront to taste and wanting to wear it herself. She probably wouldn’t be able to pull it off; she didn’t have the personality to wear the actual worst fashion and look like it belonged to her. Ancap was freakishly good at that.

She sighed when she realized Ancap was not going to drop the topic. She did always seem overly fond of Nazi providing early morning entertainment.

“I got invited to a wedding.”

“And you don’t have a date.”

Not exactly the problem, but Ancap was willing to buy it, so why not. “Right.”

“How stressful. I’ve noticed it’s hard for you to land one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” That came out more offended than Nazi liked.

Ancap held up a placating hand. “Just an observation. If you want to skip the hassle, I could hook you up with an escort. Should be around the lower four digit range, very clean and quality conversation.”

“No.”

Ancap tilted her head. “Why not?”

“I don’t want your filthy hookers.”

“Ah, I forgot. You can’t afford them. My bad,” she apologetically lifted her cup.

Nazi flinched as if she had been struck. She wanted to strangle Ancap. “Maybe I could if I didn’t have to leave my money with you.”

She chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t such a great idea to buy that rifle then. You could use that money now, huh?”

“ _You’re_ the one that sold it to me.”

“It was smart to sell it. Not to buy it.”

“Just _shut up_ ,” Nazi’s voice stayed just below a shout. Ancap didn’t even wince. She felt so infuriatingly untouchable since she hired her godforsaken filthy private police-

“My, my, you’re beet red. You don’t _have_ to bring a date, you know that right? Independent women and all that.”

Nazi’s expression settled into something vaguely disapproving, but otherwise unaffected. “Keep your neoliberal feminism to yourself.”

Ancap made a face. “Ew, don’t call me that. I’m just trying to help, no need to insult me.”

“Yeah, well, then keep your disgusting prostitutes and degenerate philosophies far away from me,” she crossed her arms.

Ancap jerked her brows up and stared into her tea, thoughtfully stirring it. “Maybe you should go see a therapist.” Her voice sounded around ten times more genuine than usual. Nazi made a face.

“I’m not putting my psyche into _their_ hands.”

Ancap looked confused for a moment. “Oh, ‘their’ as in ‘ _their_ ’, oh god, I get it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It’s just a friendly suggestion. You may not want to live your whole life liking things you call degenerate. Just saying.”

The daggers Nazi glared at her were downright deadly. Her insides twisted and curled into themselves, acid spreading through her system. If she shot Ancap right now, she’d only be acknowledging the moment – there was no way out. Just gritting her teeth and bearing the pain until the moment was over.

The way Ancap looked at her reminded her just a little of Ancom’s concerned stare earlier, but there was something so much more impersonal laced into it; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was insulting. Not compassion, nor concern, but something else.

Unblinkingly staring at Ancap until she took another sip of tea, seemingly unimpressed by Nazi’s unstable aura, Nazi figured out what it was: Ancap was merely afraid she was going to destroy her precious property. With the gun she herself had sold her, no less.

No wonder Ancom hated her so fucking much.

Nazi spent the rest of her day at classes trying to find a date.

It was _impossible_.

To her absolute horror, Nazi noted that the reputation she had thought she was subtly growing preceded her, even reaching other classes that were only vaguely connected to her major. While she had believed she was being sneaky, some of the rather left-leaning student union had apparently spread the news that she was a racist and a dickhead through the rumor mill. Barely anyone seemed to want to talk to her, and those who did were rather testy, stance alone informing her they were just waiting for her to say something unpopular to then argue with her.

It was excruciating to try to find someone in this atmosphere; what made matters worse was that by far not everyone had been informed of her position on the student union’s blacklist; a lot of the boys she approached seemed only kind of uncomfortable in her presence.

She probably just didn’t look very good right now; she was running low on sleep and hadn’t felt up to the task of doing her hair. That definitely didn’t help.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a gentle voice came up behind her, belonging to a nice looking girl with dark hair and light skin. Nazi eyed her irritatedly; she was pale, but looked somewhat ethnic, somewhere between a Spaniard and a Hispanic. She reminded her a bit of the cousin Ancap paraded around a lot lately, strutting around in a cute business romper.

“What am I doing wrong?” she asked distrustfully.

“Your flirting; I’ve seen you flit from guy to guy all day,” she smiled empathetically.

“And you’re the expert?” Nazi crossed her arms, but still followed the girl to an empty bench in the campus park.

“No,” she laughed, clear and light. Nazi hated her already. “But still, you’re coming across much too desperate.”

 _Ouch_.

“You’re cute; some boys would probably be super happy you want a date with them. But you immediately invade their space, and that squeaky voice I’ve heard you put on...”

Nazi rolled her eyes. It was called being girly.

“You have a normal speaking voice, just use it.”

“It’s too serious. Men don’t like it.” Oops. She didn’t want to let that slip.

“Consider it more,” she thought for a second, “sultry. You can make it a bit...lighter if you want, but not that much. You’re too extreme about it.”

“Right. Sure,” Nazi wanted to leave, but she was, still, desperate and glad _someone_ seemed to be willing to talk to her normally. “I think it’s more likely the student union propaganda machine sabotaged me in that regard.” She was so fucking tired, it was terribly hard not to say everything that sprung to her mind. She had to be careful lest she might drop something about _them_ and get herself expelled.

The girl scrunched her brows, still looking benevolent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” she said exasperatedly. Whatever, this girl didn’t matter, she could rant at her a little bit. “I know how this works. I’m a bit more conservative and outspoken about it, that’s pretty unpopular.”

Okay, so maybe calling herself ‘a bit more conservative’ was the euphemism of the year, but it’s not like she ever showed off much more.

“I’ve seen the weird KGB-esque posters up, telling the students to report homophobic behavior. The political bias is _very_ subtle,” she added sarcastically.

More scrunched brows, and a surprised chuckle. “Uh...yeah. Right, so, we do try to make LGBT students feel comfortable on campus, sure. But I don’t think you specifically have been targeted.”

“You lefties never believe it’s happening until you’re the ones that come under the knife.”

The girl tilted her head. “I’m head of the student union and I don’t even know you.”

Nazi swallowed. She stared at the ground, gritting her teeth. This was not the best situation to be in. So much for the stranger not being important.

“It’s possible that _you’re_ the one telling people things about you they don’t like.”

“Why would I do that?” she tried to stay defiant.

“You’ve just done it with me.”

 _Oh god_.

A couple of others appeared, friends of the pretty girl; they were all horribly unremarkable and Nazi doubted she’d remember any of their faces. She already doubted she’d remember the pretty girl’s face. She was pretty, but _so_ plain.

Her friends didn’t seem to be a fan of hers as well, or maybe they just noticed the terse atmosphere. Their formerly easygoing attitude tensed up when they came close enough to notice it and they stuck to staying a little off to the side.

Before the friendly stranger could say anything else on the matter, Nazi got up and left, mumbling a curt goodbye to her.

She went straight for the toilet, locking herself in a stall and burying her face in her hands. She wasn’t crying, not even close, but she was so _frustrated_.

Why was she so bad at this?

She wondered faintly whether her roommates also struggled so hard when it came to talking to normies; probably, considering Ancom had been thrown out by their peers, Ancap had no friends outside of her weirdly incestual clique of cousins, and Commie’s friends were definitely only hanging out with her because she let them copy her assignments. At least they were all freakish losers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely satisfied with how this one came out, but I hope you still get something out of it! Struggled especially hard with the last part bc my dumb brain has a hard time juggling portraying that Authright is a liar while at the same time remaining realistic??
> 
> Anyway, I at least got some set up out of the way :D


	18. Chapter 18

Nazi checked herself in the mirror of the dinner hall; her new dress truly was her best one yet and worked wonderfully well with her dancing shoes, the whole look tied together with the pretty silk ribbon in her hair.

She was trying to keep her nerves down by pretending to be as bored as possible; a relatively easy task, considering how atrociously boring her family was being.

They talked about the news. _Mainstream_ news. As if any of it were true. Their naiveté would’ve been laughable hadn’t it been so sad. And boring.

She listlessly ate some of the sugary-sweet wedding cake. It tasted like bitingly sugary plastic. The only baked goods she had consumed since the start of the semester were the vegan brownies Ancom had lured Commie into baking, and they were a far cry from the bright abomination on her plate. Commie had offered the brownies to her and she had complained that they would’ve been better with egg and milk and normal goddamn flour. Now she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

“So, honey,” her mother addressed her. She closed her eyes and steeled herself; it had to happen at some point. “Still no man in your life?”

“No, mother.”

Her sister stifled a giggle, lovingly leaning further against her husband, a genuinely offensively bland excuse for a man. She didn’t even bother to glare at them.

“Still no one good enough for you?”

They went through the same spiel at every gathering since she had been eighteen. Since she had moved out. Or run away, as her mother put it.

“I haven’t found the right one yet.”

Her mother sighed heavily, disappointed. Nazi wondered what else she had expected.

“Sometimes I ask myself if you’re doing this to hurt me. The place of a woman is beside a man, I thought I taught you that. Your sister at least seems to have understood it.”

Nazi didn’t answer, instead sneering at the couple next to her as they chastely held hands. Her sister nudged her little boytoy to say something; she had always taken the whole biblical ‘women shan’t talk when men are present’ thing a little too literally. Especially with how silly she was in following it; Nazi was sure she taught her husband the things he should say before they went out. Her words out of his mouth, basically. How unnecessary.

“We met at church; it was the best day in my life.” He looked softly at his wife. “Maybe you should try going there to meet your special someone.”

“That might also help you find back to God. And kindness,” her mother noted.

Nazi’s fork scraped against the plate. “I’m not a fan of church.”

Church was weak, lamely spreading across all races as if there was no difference between them, cowardly turning the other cheek when retaliation was the only right choice of action. She had stopped going as soon as she could.

“Does it burn your skin to be in one?” her sister quipped icily; she had always been the rather religious type, but without any of the genuine kindness. The religious folk Nazi had met at church had only ever been kind when it suited them – when it helped spread their pathetic beliefs.

Not that constant kindness was all that great. That was Ancom, and they got trampled all over by everyone because they insisted on ‘giving everyone a chance’. Strength was the only way to ensure stability and a future.

“Have you even tried going out with your college boys? No fooling around, of course, but just going on dates?” her mother tried. “Sometimes I worry I was too strict with you. Turned you off of men completely.”

Ah, there it was. That familiar nausea that haunted her during every family gathering. She wanted to vomit out that rancid plastic cake and hopefully ruin the table decoration, but kept her poker face and swallowed the bile rising up her throat.

“I have dated men,” her voice cracked when the acid reflux reached up. She quickly took a sip of water.

“And? None were to your liking? Honey, I want you to have children. Look at how old you’re getting. Your sister already has two, and she’s three years younger than you.”

“Motherhood is a very joyful experience,” her sister reached out and touched her arm. It took her entire willpower to not jerk back as if burnt. “It might even help you find back to Jesus.”

“I’m sure it is,” she leered patronizingly at her sister, an expression she had learned from Ancap. It was incredibly insulting without actually being an insult. Genius. “But no. College boys are all rather spineless.”

“Oh, are they not horrible enough for your tastes?” The insult hadn’t gone unnoticed, judging by her sister’s acidic tone.

Her mother’s face fell. “Are you still not over that?” she asked, disappointed. She seemed to think Nazi and her sister had some contact outside of the gatherings. They didn’t, but it didn’t matter.

“No, I’m not over my kind being replaced,” she said as calmly as she could. “Nor will I be until it’s safe again.”

“Oh, dear Lord,” her mother uttered a small prayer, “honey, you’re not a teenager anymore, just the opposite. You can’t be chasing dragons at this age. Especially if it stands in the way of finding happiness in a good family with a husband and children.”

Nazi grit her teeth. She wanted to rant and rage about the replacement, about _them_ ruling them and how exactly her sister’s type was being cucked by their overlords without even noticing and how, soon, civil war would be upon them. And she’d fight in that war, take her precious weapons and defend her homeland. And when a new order replaced the weak old one, her sister and mother and the whole sordid lot would be _purged_ with all the others.

But she didn’t say a word. It was pointless. She had tried to convince her sister when she was still young and impressionable, but the stupid brat had been clinging to Jesus so much that she was able to just block Nazi’s truths out, hiding behind what her church group leaders had told her. Now, it was way too late for all of them.

Maybe if she still had a father, he would understand. Then the others would have to follow suit, and her ideal world wouldn’t include removing her nuclear family. But that wasn’t the world they lived in.

“God made you such a beautiful girl, even prettier than you sister.”

Nazi couldn’t even muster up the energy to feel schadenfreude at her sister’s bristling.

“But you waste it with the way you dress and with how little you still sleep,” she gestured at the heavy shadows under her eyes. Nazi forewent explaining that she had degenerate roommates that made it hard to sleep most nights, even if it had gotten better recently.

When she didn’t respond, her sister took it as a sign to comment. “Mother is trying to say you dress like a clown.”

Nazi grit her teeth even harder, jaw set in a hard line. Her sister had always been jealous of her sowing hobby. Neither of them were very good at it at first, but Nazi had kept at it and improved, and she had felt her sister’s envy over it ever since. Or maybe her sister really didn’t like her clothes because she was a boring, plain _bitch_.

“What did you just say to me?”

Nazi’s eyes snapped up. Had she been mumbling her thoughts out loud?

She considered throwing in the towel, sticking to her statement and just throwing her water in her sister’s disgusting, done up face just to see the make up streak across it.

But she couldn’t. She hated it so much, but no matter how idiotic she found her family and their remarks, the dull ache she felt over being a constant disappointment was so painful already, she couldn’t imagine cutting ties completely. It might kill her.

She despised how little her family appreciated her and her thoughts, all the things that made her special and worthy of anything at all in her own worldview; all of that mattered nothing in their eyes. They wanted her to be a brainless zombie, blind to the world and its problems and just pray to God to fix it all.

“Sweetie,” her mother tried again, cutting off her sister’s attempt to get angry with her, “are you sure you don’t want to stay until tomorrow to go to church with us? Get to know some nice boys?”

 _I don’t want your ‘nice’ boys_.

“Face it, mom,” her sister aggressively cut into her piece of cake. “I don’t think she likes men at all.”

“That’s not true!” Nazi and her mother shouted at the same time.

“I’ll get a goddamn boyfriend,” she stabbed her cake.

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’ll get a _gosh darned_ boyfriend, alright? Just give me some more time,” she snapped.

Her mother looked so terribly melancholic. “I’d give you all the time in the world. But nature doesn’t. You know that.”

Nazi looked down at her plate, trying her hardest to ignore the sting of tears welling up in her eyes.

Ancap looked proudly at her work. Over the front entrance of her magnificent apartment building the security guards had hung sparkling golden letters, declaring to the world what was her property: ‘Ancapistan’.

An apt name, if she said so herself. She sipped on her champagne, tipping it at the guards awkwardly climbing down the ladders. They had claimed to have no experience in what she asked them to do, but they had managed, as expected. One had fallen off the ladder and twisted his ankle; she had sent the clumsy oaf back to the 24/7 Security office, seeing that she had no more use for him. His sad attempt to argue with her failed miserably; he wasn’t even capable of proper English, so it was hard for Ancap to so much as follow what he was trying to say.

Libertarian walked out of the entrance, ducking under the ladders just in time to avoid running into them.

“Ancap,” she said, tugging at her miniskirt that had moved up during her acrobatics under the ladders.

“My dear, dear Libertarian,” Ancap threw an arm around her neck, pulling her next to her. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Oh. Wow,” Libertarian stared, awed. “That _is_ pretty rad. I like the sparkles.”

“Lovely, right? Our little domain!”

“Our?” Libertarian looked at her.

“Well, _mine_ , mostly, but I do consider you second in command, with all you do. You’re quite the valuable asset.”

Her cousin flushed, awkwardly trying to extract herself from the embrace. “Uhm, yeah, about that-”

“Please, Libertarian, don’t ruin the moment,” Ancap interrupted her, finishing her glass of champagne. She was drinking so much of the stuff lately. “I’m sure you can handle it, whatever it is.”

She could already feel the dissent form on her cousin’s tongue, but she wasn’t in the mood for worrying. She dragged Libertarian over to the back of the building to show off the little secret entrance she’d had her guards build as well; all on the quiet of course, otherwise it would’ve cost her a fortune.

She came to a grinding halt as she turned the corner. Somebody had graffitied crude symbols she could barely decipher on her formally pristine wall.

“That little shit,” she hissed, taking off her new shades.

“Oh no. That lowers the resale value,” Libertarian lamented, hurrying after Ancap as she stormed away. “You know who it was?”

“There’s only one crappy little anarchist living with us,” Ancap stomped into the elevator. She had been able to decipher a crippled hammer and sickle in the rough paintings.

“There’s at least two, actually. Unless we have cryptos.”

“Two?” her head whipped around.

Libertarian nodded. “One of your neighbors, Anprim. Also prone to making fires, incidentally. But hers seem under control.”

Ancap shook her head as she marched over to her apartment. “What is it with anarchists and fire?”

She knocked erratically on Ancom’s door, rolling her eyes at herself right after. Why would they be in there. She turned around, giving Commie’s door the same treatment.

“ _Come in_.”

Ancap opened the door, suppressing a gag when she saw Commie leaning against the back wall of her bed, Ancom curled up at her side, watching something on TV. The two of them really had a knack for the sweet and homely for how alternative they pretended to be.

“Tell your weed goblin to not damage my property anymore. Bumping up your rent for next month if this happens again,” she said, leaving straight after.

It was impossible to tell who of them tensed up more. Ancap was decidedly too good at phrasing things in the least palatable way posiible without being straight up rude.

Commie sat up straighter; no point in pretending their position hadn’t become uncomfortable.

“What did you do?” she asked in a low voice.

“What the hell, ‘what did I do’?” Ancom also sat up, offended. “I didn’t do anything!”

She had to be patient. She was tired of being patient with Ancom, but she had to try. “What is Ancap talking about?”

Ancom sheepishly looked from side to side, though their expression was still sulky. “I may or may not have spray painted the wall last night when I was high and the construction noise kept me up.”

“Why do you insist on doing illegal things?” Commie scrunched up her face. She didn’t seem comfortable admonishing her lover.

“I’m not going to sit here and bow to Ancap’s tyranny. I thought you hated landlords much more than I do.” Ancom sounded so very disappointed.

“I do, Anarkitty, I- I do,” Commie pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Then why do you let her trample all over you?”

“I can’t afford a bump in my rent.”

It wasn’t an easy thing to admit; it cut into her pride and into the pride she held in her family’s support, but Ancom didn’t even seem to notice.

“That’s exactly the time to revolt. _You_ taught me that!”

“What am I supposed to revolt against? That snake? The entire housing market? It’s not that easy, Ancom. You need a good plan and good organization for a revolution that makes sense.” She spoke calmly, but her insides were pure turmoil. Ancom’s fiery dark eyes pierced into her own, tired ones, but instead of stoking another fire, they just burned her.

“Fuck plans and fuck organizations. You sound just like that person from the bridge.”

Commie tilted her head. “From the bridge?”

“Yeah,” Ancom leaned back self consciously. “I saw them again a couple of days ago.”

“Anarkitty,” Commie leaned forward, gaze both inquisitive and worried, “are you hanging out with homeless people?”

“I don’t know if they’re homeless,” they said defensively.

Commie looked skeptical. “Are they...real?”

“Yes, they’re real.”

“Because you’ve told about meeting quite a few people during the night when you’re high, and I’m not sure if they’re not all imaginary.”

Ancom rolled their eyes. “A lot of them are, I guess, but this one isn’t. I met them twice, and once I wasn’t even high.”

Commie smiled tightly, apologetically.

“Okay. Let’s- Let’s just leave this behind us, okay?” her hand softly caressed Ancom’s thigh. “I hate fighting with you.”

“Sure. Whatever,” they said, letting Commie pull them up against her to continue watching TV.

Nazi stumbled into the apartment much later than she was used to. The shitty train hadn’t stopped at her station and she’d had to search for an hour for someone who would drive her home; she didn’t exactly fancy sleeping on a park bench tonight.

The sad state she was in had helped her along in her task; an elderly man doing late night gardening took pity on the young darling looking for a way home, and she made a valiant attempt at hiding how creepy she was. Everyone always calling her creepy. She was sick of it. There was nothing creepy about her. Even the old bastard had worriedly remarked that she seemed like she had a lot of anger to sort out during the short drive; she hadn’t even said anything, but she guessed that didn’t matter. Maybe the stupid plain bitch from the student union was right and it was just visible from a distance that there was something wrong with her. Maybe it was silly to try to hide it.

Homonationalist had lurked in the hallway when she returned; she had gagged upon seeing her, which was apparently surprising enough to dissuade the other girl from talking to her. Was that how other people perceived her as well? Like that creepy weirdo?

No. No, it wasn’t. Homonationalist was a salient oaf; she didn’t even seem particularly angry or worried about the state of affairs. Maybe she just got off to the idea of domination.

Nazi had to gag again, pouring herself a glass of water in the kitchen to swallow it down. She was so fucking tired, all she wanted to do was go to bed and forget that today ever happened.

Her soul nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned to see Ancom slouching in the same corner of the kitchen as last time. She caught her glass just before it would’ve shattered on the ground.

“What is your fucking problem with just sleeping in a normal bed like a normal fucking person you goddamn piece of shit ni-”

“Jesus, Jesus, calm down,” Ancom held their hands up, shocked at the sudden outburst.

Nazi massaged her temples, leaning forward against the kitchen island. “What are you doing here all the time and why don’t you ever make noise to let others know that you’re here? If you’re hiding, this is a _really_ stupid spot.” Why was she even talking to them? She wanted to go to sleep.

“I come here to think. It’s too cold to do it outside.”

That only answered half of her questions, but who cared. It didn’t matter. The little mongrel could sit in dusty corners their whole life for all Nazi cared.

“You seem really upset.”

“Do I now,” she deadpanned, dropping the glass into the dishwasher and violently closing the lid.

“Was the wedding today?”

Ancom and their stupid pity. She wondered faintly if she should feel insulted by it.

She leaned against the counter. “No, I dressed up like this for no reason.” Maybe the stupid freak would believe it. Then she’d be free to leave.

Ancom shrugged, pulling their sweater over the legs. They looked like an anarchist roly-poly doll.

“You always dress up nice.”

“You seem to be the only one who thinks that.” Nazi really needed to remember not to talk to anyone when she was tired. “My family considers my wardrobe ridiculous.”

“Are you,” they swallowed, tilting their head, “trans?”

Nazi squinted at them. “Why on earth would you ask that?”

“Because, like, maybe your family disapproves of you dressing so girly when you’re, like AMAB and stuff,” they sputtered.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Ancom awkwardly shifted in their seat.

“To my family, the way I dress is comparable to the way Ancap dresses. But I don’t think they really care about it that much,” she waved off the thought. “They just want me to be normal, their normal. And I’m not and they just... _project_ it onto the sowing, to borrow terms from those shills.”

Ancom raised their brows. “Shills?”

“Psychologists. A field dominated by _them_.”

“Get a grip, dude,” Ancom laughed. It was weird for them laugh around her. “Your family seems to pose a bigger threat to your happiness than ‘ _they_ ’ do.”

“I can handle my family.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Nazi sighed. “Their values are fine on their own, if they weren’t so fucking blind to the civil war we’re headed for.”

Ancom chose to ignore the last part. “Their values seem to really hurt you.”

“They just annoy me about not having a husband and kids yet, that’s all. And it’s understandable, I’m going to turn twenty-three soon.”

Ancom furrowed their brows. “What? That’s really, really young for getting married.”

“My sister is twenty and has two kids,” Nazi retorted.

“Okay, but why would you want that? You suck and I hate you, but you seem to have better shit to do than look after kids. And you’d be horrible at it,” Ancom stated.

“I’m sure it’s in the nature of all women, including you,” Ancom flinched and it wasn’t even satisfying because Nazi wanted to flinch as well, “to take care of children, no matter how...unpalatable they may be otherwise.”

Despite how uncomfortable Ancom looked, they were determined to press on. “But do you want to do that?”

“Of course.”

“No, do you think you _should_ , or do you actually want to?”

“Doesn’t really matter what I think or I want. I have to bear children to ensure the survival of my ra-”

“Oh, come _on_ , Nazi! What is this nonsense?” Ancom threw their hands up. “You clearly hate following conservative rules. I’m sure your family would disown you if they found out how many boys you drag home on a regular basis, why do you pretend to bow to their norms?”

“It’s not like I _enjoy_ dragging home boys!” The argument was getting heated. Dangerous. “I have to do it because I need to find-”

“What is this?” Ancom looked genuinely worried now, eyes wide and distressed concern swimming in them. “A really elaborate form of self-harm?”

“No, I-” Nazi stuttered.

“Nazi, why don’t you just let go of all this bullshit, and do what you _actually_ want? You can just be free-”

“My freedom doesn’t fucking matter for shit you stupid bitch!” Nazi yelled. Oh no, someone was going to wake up. “My freedom is irrelevant, just like everyone else’s freedom is _irrelevant_. To ensure our survival, of the species, the race, the culture, anything at all, we all have to make sacrifices, and unlike you _cowards_ I’m willing to make mine!”

There was a short silence, only Nazi’s erratic panting filling up the room. She was flustered and angry and somehow, ashamed, even though she had no reason to be. Ancom’s wide-eyed stare bore into her, scorching through her conviction and leaving barren anger and frustration in its wake.

“It doesn’t sound like a world worth preserving,” they said quietly.

Nazi felt the tears bursting out of her, because Ancom was _wrong._ They didn’t understand _shit_ , but before a single drop could form, Commie appeared in the kitchen.

She asked something, but Nazi didn’t hear it, didn’t want to hear it. She stormed off to her room and slammed the door, sliding to the floor to cry in earnest, staining her pretty dress as she muffled the sound of her hiccups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing convincing people is haaaard. But it was fun.
> 
> And yes, I am trying to get you to drink water by having the girls (and Ancom) constantly fetch themselves something to drink in the story. Please enjoy and stay hydrated, folks!


	19. Chapter 19

Ancom was hanging out with Posadist again. She always had an open door for them, and even though they didn’t know why, they were grateful for it.

“Commie was kinda unreasonably worried,” they mused, lying on the floor with their legs perched atop a chair as Posadist tinkered around with yet another one of her contraptions. Those were getting more and more outlandish every day.

“You did say your creepy roommate shouted at you. I’d be concerned, too. Doesn’t she want to kill you?”

“Expel me from the apartment, but yeah. I kinda see what you’re saying.”

“Everyone’s a little tense since those securities moved in. Don’t be so harsh on Commie.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were on her side.”

Posadist shrugged, looking around for her screwdriver. “She does help me with my projects.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Those are getting weirdly elaborate, dude. What are you even making?”

“Art.”

“Right.”

Posadist nodded and fixed yet another two metal pipes together with a clamp.

“So, you’ve also been nervous since those guys moved in?” Ancom changed the topic. It was really impressive how their friend managed to get anything done at all in the clusterfuck that was her room, instruments, tools, and metals all piled on top each other in a haphazard mess.

“You could say that. I don’t think they’ll be helpful when the aliens come. They might pass the house by and leave us behind because we associated with that slave labor.”

“You and your aliens. Do you actually believe that stuff?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why though?” Ancom angled their head to stare out of the window, blinds open for a change. It was cloudy out and the wind occasionally whistled through the trees of the nearby woods. Fall was quickly turning into winter.

“It makes more sense that the vast cosmos would harbor aliens than to believe people will work together with no outside force. Not that it’s not cute that you do,” she shot them a sly smile, stepping over them to get to a wrench.

“Of course people can work together! They’ve done it for forever,” Ancom retorted.

“What about people like your creepy roommate?”

Ancom flushed. “She-, I’m sure she only turned out this way because of something. I don’t think it’s natural for humans to be like this.”

“And what’s your plan for action, reeducation?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“Sounds like Commie.”

“I don’t know!” Ancom threw their arms up. “I haven’t thought about that yet. Maybe we just get rid of all the fascists and then the rest of us can have a good life in a non-oppressive system.”

The noise of Posadist’s power drill filled the room for a moment.

“I think that plan still needs some work,” she winked at them when she was done.

“So does your ridiculous ‘just let the aliens do it’ plan.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

They were interrupted by knocking at the door.

“ _Anarkitty? Are you in there?_ ”

Posadist smirked at them. “‘Anarkitty’?”

Ancom rolled their eyes, hopping to their feet. “Commie likes giving everything pet names. Just forget it,” they walked to the door.

“I like it,” Posadist shrugged, amused grin still on her face.

“What’s up?” Ancom asked the taller girl. She was dressed for going out into the wind, in heavy boots and her leather jacket.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.”

“Outside.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ancom followed her into the elevator hallway. “What is it?”

Commie nervously looked around before dragging her lover into the staircase; it was cold and damp and Ancom had to shiver, prompting Commie to throw her jacket around their shoulders.

“You alright?” Ancom asked, eyeing her skeptically.

“I fear the walls have ears,” she muttered, glancing down the staircase.

“I never took you to be the paranoid type. That’s more the rightists' thing.”

“The kulak has her workers listening in in the vague hope of getting profits out of it. I wouldn’t mind for me, but I worry about you.”

Ancom tilted their head, crossing their arms. “What’s going on?”

Commie sighed, giving their surroundings a last cursory once-over. “My family ran into some trouble, I have to go help fix it. That means I won’t be here for two to three days.”

Her piercing blue eyes worriedly looked down at Ancom; she looked a little sallow in the gross neon light.

“Oh- Okay. Are you guys gonna be alright, or-”

“Don’t worry about us, I’ll handle it. But,” she leaned in, hot breath ghosting over Ancom’s ear, “money may become tight because of this.” She stood back up. “But Ancap can’t know about this, alright?”

“What’s she gonna do with that info, though?” they tried to ignore the goosebumps spreading down from their ear.

Commie frowned. “That’s impossible to predict.” She seemed very stressed out and eager to leave, but hesitated, shifting on her feet.

“Are you going to be okay? With the rightists?”

Ancom gulped. “Uh, yeah, of course,” they lied.

“Are you sure? Has Nazi been harassing you? I’ve caught her cornering you more than once now and-”

“No, no it’s fine,” Ancom waved her off. “And I can always go to Posadist when push comes to shove, right?”

“But don’t take her pills. I won’t be here to-”

“To save me, yeah, I know,” Ancom laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Commie just pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Don’t, please don’t be too spendy while I’m gone. I- I just can’t afford it right now and I,” Commie blubbered, pale skin flushing red.

“Relax, relax,” Ancom stepped forward, tentatively hugging their girlfriend. She was horribly tense and kind of uncomfortable to embrace. “I can be cheap. Don’t worry,” they mumbled into her chest. Whatever was going on with Commie’s family must have been bad; Ancom was just a little jealous Commie even had family to worry about. So did Ancap, when they thought about it. Only they and Nazi didn’t get along with theirs.

“Sorry, Anarkitty,” Commie seemed to regain her senses, “it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll go home, fix the issue and then I’ll be right back. It’s fine.”

They stood like this for a few more seconds.

“I’ll miss you,” Commie muttered. Ancom nodded into her chest, but didn’t say anything. “Alright. I have to go now,” Commie released them, leaning down to kiss them a last time before practically running off.

Slightly stunned that they were just...alone now, Ancom waited for a few moments until they heard Commie get into the elevator.

When they walked out of the staircase, Ancap was talking to some securities in the hallway. Her patronizing voice was enough to make Ancom cringe as they listened to her ever more esoteric orders. The poor guards, owned by a crazy capitalist. Maybe she had some sort of mental disorder after all.

“Oh, Ancom!” she turned around, showing off the expensive yet trashy looking silk shirt she wore underneath her new Italian suit. She had been shopping a lot lately.

The securities shot the two of them a skeptical look before walking off and Ancom had to suppress the desire to stick out their tongue.

Ancap threw a cordial arm around their shoulder, guiding them both into the apartment. “I heard you’ve actually been going to classes lately. I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.”

Ancom shifted nervously under Ancap’s bony arm. She seriously needed to eat something that wasn’t drugs.

“Uhm, yeah, kinda.”

Was Ancap actually watching them?

“You know, I chose those classes because I thought you might like them,” they reached the kitchen, Ancap moving to pour them both some wine; her movements were even more exaggerated than usual. Ancom was beginning to despise her. “Did they teach something about gender or something?”

“Uh huh,” they muttered, clumsily holding onto the wine glass Ancap handed them. She seemed to change her mind, taking the glass away again and dunking the contents into a plastic cup she lifted from the cupboard.

“Lovely. You know, in time you might even have your own income and won’t need to rely on your girlfriend much longer,” she took a big sip from her glass, motioning for Ancom to do the same.

“Why does it matter?” their tone was careful; they also only took a small sip from the wine. Commie’s paranoia was rubbing off on them.

“I wouldn’t want to lose your exciting company to that socialist finding her inevitable ruin,” she grinned, teeth sharp as ever. She looked like a shark.

“We never talk, though.” If Ancap was a shark, Ancom was a piranha. Commie could be a whale with how big and impressive she was, and Nazi a kraken, constantly reaching with her squishy tendrils to pull in whoever was willing to listen. Didn’t whales and kraken fight in the depths of the ocean? The metaphor was breaking down.

“A sad state of affairs. I’ve always found you rather entertaining and it pains me to see you being thrown around by those authoritarians.” It was freaky how genuine and simultaneously fake she sounded.

“Cut the crap, Ancap. What is this?”

Her grin was unwavering as she predatorily eyed Ancom over the rims of her sunglasses. “Just trying to make sure you’re on the right side of history here. That’s a phrase you leftists like, right? I’ll admit it, I’m strangely fond of you and your doe eyed worldview, even if I think it’s stupid.”

“Keep your fondness or whatever,” Ancom curled their lips, “you’re not invincible either and it will eventually catch up with you.” They turned to leave.

Ancap’s barking laughter echoed behind them. “Cute of you to assume there’s some higher power that will make sure your view is made right eventually. Hilarious, this is why I want to keep you around!”

Ancom hated themselves for it, but the manic way Ancap talked worried them. She didn’t look healthy, even less so than usual. She was going to work herself into a heart attack if she didn’t faint from lack of food and sleep beforehand.

Right. They didn’t have anywhere to go right now; Commie had run off and Posadist’s flat didn’t feel safe for them right now, what with Ancap’s cousin living right across the corridor.

They took the elevator downstairs; maybe one of their old friends had an open door for them in spite of the disaster their last party had been. Most of them had taken the manhandling by the guards pretty personally, especially because Ancom hadn’t reacted.

A few guards stood right outside the entrance. Ancom steeled themselves for passing through their middle.

At first, the guards just didn’t get the hint and didn’t move out of the way, prompting them to have to tap one of their tall, broad shoulders to ask for passage. The man turned, sneering down at them.

He said something about it being impolite to interrupt men while they were talking; they didn’t even listen, hastily trying to squeeze through the handful of men blocking their way. It wasn’t even that many, maybe three of four, but their hostile gazes made Ancom cower.

One of the guards gave them a push as they were finally free, dropping another remark on how ‘she’ was ignoring them. Ancom did just that, swallowing thickly as they tried to keep their steps even, eyes watering as they walked away.

They tried to hold their head high; it was fine. Nothing had happened. Just a bunch of dickheads saying maybe like three rude sentences at them for like twenty seconds; totally fine. Ancom didn’t beat them up because it wasn’t worth the effort, not because they were ridiculously outnumbered.

Their eyes fluttered closed in annoyance when they spotted Nazi walking towards the bridge at the same time as them. Of course.

Slowing down, they internally debated swerving left or right to avoid the encounter; too slow to decide, they ended up on the bridge just as Nazi did. To their surprise, she didn’t sneer something mean at them and kept walking, but instead stopped in front of them, adjusting her bag’s shoulder strap.

“What’s got you looking so upset? Did somebody say something ‘offensive’ or is something wrong at the flat?” she mocked them.

“Somebody said something offensive,” Ancom replied, masking their dejection with defiance.

Nazi softened her stance. Weird.

“Who?”

Ancom sniffled like the pathetic idiot they felt like. “Just some of the guards. It doesn’t matter,” they tried to brush past Nazi, but she held them by their arm.

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds as Ancom first struggled against her hold only to quickly give up. Her fingers were cold and hard, they felt more like metal clasping around Ancom’s soft, warm flesh.

“Sorry about that,” she finally said, letting go. Ancom was too befuddled to respond before Nazi was already gone, quick strides carrying her away. Her honey blonde hair swayed in the slight wind of the overcast day and the scene was almost artistic with her wedged on the path between the two barren fields, mowed to the ground with the end of summer.

They didn’t find anywhere to go. Listless, they stole a can of tuna from the grocery store, which they obviously refused to eat, so they had to go back to the store, put it back and pick up the beans they had been aiming for without anyone noticing. What a hassle.

Especially considering Commie called them in the middle of their second time in the shop to inform them that she was safely on the train and check whether the rightists had eaten them up already. They hung up quickly, finishing their miniature heist before going back outside to call her back.

“No, I’m fine, I think. Nazi was a little weird again, though,” they had their phone clamped between their cheek and shoulder, struggling to open the can.

“ _What did she do?_ ”

The connection was terrible on the train and Ancom was quickly getting annoyed with it.

“She was like, I don’t know, concerned? I mean not really, she was still a dick, but she was really weird about it.” They nearly dropped their phone and to catch it nearly had to drop their beans.

“ _What was she concerned about?_ ”

“Oh, just,” Ancom sighed. They and Commie didn’t really see eye to eye on the issue. “Some of the guards harassed me and I was still upset when I saw her.” They swallowed; they weren’t exactly stoked on telling Commie about the whole thing, unsure how she’d react.

They could practically hear Commie nodding at the other end of the line. “ _I understand. That’s upsetting._ ”

“Yeah, they were being total dickheads. They kinda always are to me.”

“ _They probably have a lot of pent up anger about being mistreated by the kulak. Don’t take it too personal._ ”

“I’ll take it as personal as it was,” Ancom snapped. “I’m not their punching bag just because Ancap is a dick.”

“ _You’re allowed to be upset, but you have to understand them, too, trapped in working rela-_ ”

Ancom groaned loudly, interrupting Commie in her explanation. “You know, I’m also pretty goddamn poor and you don’t see me harassing random people either. Maybe it’s just them.”

“ _You not harassing people is arguable._ ” Her tone was clearly joking, trying to get Ancom to calm down, but Ancom was not in the mood.

“You know what? I’m sick of you defending the guards every time they make me feel uncomfortable. Just because they’re proles doesn’t mean they’re immune to being assholes,” they spat.

“ _I’m not saying that, Anarkitty, I just want you to-_ ”

“And quit calling me that when we’re fighting! It’s really fucking patronizing.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Commie sounded icy now. “ _But you’d do well to look left and right of yourself occasionally and realize other people are also suffering, and_ most _of them are suffering under class struggles._ ”

“Who gives a shit, Commie? Those shitty securities make me feel unsafe in my own home with how they look at me! Have you _seen_ them?” Ancom exclaimed.

“ _Being looked at weirdly is not really comparable to an age old system of class oppression that brings people at the brink of their livelihood_.”

“Seriously? _Seriously_?” Ancom raised their voice. “Who’s side are you even on?”

“ _It makes no sense for me to answer that. Maybe you should ask yourself who’s side_ you _are on though, the upper middle class kids who run away from home because their parents didn’t like the way they dressed, or the systematically enslaved working class._ ”

A second passed. Ancom didn’t answer.

Another second. They remained silent.

“ _Anarkitty, I-_ ”

“Don’t call me that,” they said and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I write these one in advance @Somedegenerateleftist XD
> 
> Please enjoy~


	20. Chapter 20

Ancom’s mind was still blank by the time they returned to the apartment building. They used the secret back entrance Ancap had built, foolishly believing that it wouldn’t be found; she underestimated how good and eager Ancom was at snooping out nifty passages. The back entrance wasn’t guarded, also a huge plus for them.

The first thing they heard as they dragged themselves to their shitty room was frustrated cursing; it came from Nazi’s room and was followed by the dull thud of metal hitting carpet. Not thinking, Ancom wandered to Nazi’s door, quietly knocking on it.

“You okay in there?”

More cursing. Nazi opened the door a sliver, sliding out and closing it behind her.

“I’m fine, freak,” she said, retreating into the kitchen with one arm limply hanging off of her.

“You sure?” Ancom trailed after her, watching confusedly as she held that same arm under the running water of the tap. They walked up next to her, flinching back when they saw her lower arm; it was heavily bruised, having turned purple, yellow, and green and judging by the look on Nazi’s face as the cold water hit it, it hurt like hell.

“Hey, you have to ice it,” Ancom said, hurriedly turning to fetch one of their ice packs from the freezer. “Water alone doesn’t help.”

Nazi turned away from the faucet, letting Ancom gingerly place the ice pack on her arm. She hissed, baring her teeth.

“Now keep it there for a few minutes. I’ll go get the compress, wait a sec,” they tapped off to their room, silently cursing when they realized they had moved their stuff into Commie’s room. They awkwardly swerved back, feeling Nazi’s judging gaze from the kitchen on them as they reluctantly entered their girlfriend’s room to get to their backpack.

“Someone really doesn’t want to go into that room,” Nazi remarked.

“Shut up, fascist. Does it feel numb already?” they tried to reach for the arm to examine it, but Nazi hastily pulled it away.

“Not yet,” she said, slight blush tinting her cheeks as she stiffly held the ice pack against herself.

Uncomfortable silence.

“What happened?” Ancom asked just to break it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked, idiot.”

“It’s numb. What now?” Nazi ignored them and held out her arm, removing the pack. The bruise looked horrible still, but better.

“We bandage it.”

“But it’s not bleeding.”

Ancom rolled their eyes. “Jesus Christ, can you just let me help you?” They picked up the compress from the table, tightly wrapping it around Nazi’s arm; she twitched at the contact. “It’s about compressing the blood flow. Trust me, I’ve done this a few times.”

“Oh really?” Nazi raised her brow as she looked down at the dark hands working their magic on her arm. It stung, but in a good way. “You should fix your nail polish,” she noted as the offensively chipped black nails came into view.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Ancom finished binding her arm, fixing the bandages with a clasp.

Nazi raised her arm, examining it. “That looks...really professional. Where did you learn that?” Even when she was handing out compliments she sounded like an arrogant jerk.

“As I said, I do this often, I get into a lot of fights. I don’t know why that’s always so surprising for you guys.”

Nazi shrugged. “I’m surprised you have a useful skill is all.”

“Do we really have to do this?” Ancom groaned. “Commie isn’t even here, you’re being shitty for yourself alone.”

“Where is Commie, actually”? Nazi ignored them, again. It was getting annoying.

“Her fa- she’s visiting family. Yeah,” Ancom stuttered, remembering just in time not to say too much.

“So you’re all alone with us now, huh?” Nazi attempted to cross her arms, but winced and unfolded them again when the bandages pressed painfully on her bruise at the movement.

Ancom put on a tough face. “Considering how little you know about treating wounds, you haven’t been in a lot of fights before. So I’m not scared.”

“That’s why I have a gun.”

It was like a punch in the gut; the air of slightly hostile banter dissipated in favor of one of severe discomfort.

Nazi noticed, but instead of hammering her point home like Ancom expected, a flicker of regret ghosted over her face.

“I also had a run in with the securities,” she blurted out. “That’s how I, uh, got this,” she raised her arm.

Ancom furrowed their brows; this was suspicious, but they really wanted it not to be.

“Did they,” Ancom hoped Nazi would just tell her story at the opportunity, but she stayed silent. “Why did they get...physical with you?”

“You mean because everyone who’s not a pathetic beta wouldn’t lay a hand on a woman?” Nazi threw them a lopsided grin; it didn’t sit right on her conventionally pretty face. “I may or may not have said something to them that you might find offensive. So you could say it’s my own fault.”

Ancom didn’t really know what to respond to first; the victim blaming, the sexism, or the racism.

They went with the blatant disregard Nazi seemed to have for her own wellbeing. “Why did you do that? Do you have to be racist no matter what?” And the racism.

Nazi shrugged, face serious again. “I wanted to take them down a peg.”

Ancom looked at her, searching her face.

“I’m sick of those...inferiors making us feel unsafe,” she added, crossing her arms for real this time.

_Us?_

“That’s, uhm,” Ancom swallowed, skin tingling, “that’s pretty brave of you, I guess.” Their mind skipped back to when they had entered the apartment and the metallic clanking they had heard.

“Were- were you doing something with your gun before? In your room?”

Nazi scowled. “None of your fucking business, freak.”

Ancom mulled over the impressions they had received; they were all pretty wild and took some time to process, but their thoughts kept coming back to Nazi picking fights with grown men.

“Uhm, Nazi, do,” they shifted on their feet, “do you have a tendency for self harm?”

“No?” she raised her bows, tone dry. “No cuts on my arms as far as I can see. I’m not a mentally ill subh-”

“Self harm isn’t just cutting,” they interrupted, “pretty much anything can be it, if you don’t like it but do it on purpose, precisely because you know you won’t like it,” Ancom explained, not as careful with their words as they felt they should have been.

Nazi’s face was illegible. “Why would I do that? Sounds pretty idiotic to me.”

“I don’t know,” Ancom leaned against the kitchen counter, concern etched on their face. “It can be anything from really trivial stuff to severe trauma that pushes people into that. Maybe a family member died or something.”

“I don’t trust psychology, mind you,” Nazi stated, sniffy, “but my father died some time ago, if you must know.”

Ancom shuffled in place, still surprised Nazi would even be telling them this.

“Is that maybe why you started having such,” they struggled for a diplomatic word. They were never very good at diplomacy. “Being such a fascist?”

Nazi’s disgusted sneer was a picture for the ages, poisonous and disappointed at the same time. “No. My views were the same before and after, and I quite honestly find it distasteful you would link political views you happen not to like to the personal tragedy of my father’s death.”

She spoke with grit teeth and Ancom felt like they were dealing with a time bomb; something uncomfortable pooled in their stomach, a nausea informing them that something was wrong, but not really what. Maybe it was just the stilted way Nazi suddenly spoke.

“Are you sure? Trauma can-”

“Let me stop this right now,” Nazi interrupted them, eyes steely. “No. I’m not listening to your pseudo Freudian hot takes about opinions you have for yourself decided to be psychosis. It’s disrespectful and I won’t have it. I have my opinions because I’ve looked around the world and determined that this is the only way to go. That’s just who I am.”

“Why are you so keen on convincing me you’re a bad person?” It was the first thing that came to their mind. They regretted it immediately.

Nazi slammed her fist against the counter, stepping dangerously close to Ancom still leaning against it. “I’m not a bad person, god damn it! You’re just blind,” she towered over them. “The world is giving you all the clues, but you refuse to pick them up. What about those guards? Don’t tell me you believe Commie’s fairy tale of poverty being the root of all evil.”

Ancom flinched, remembering their phone call.

“You can see it, I can see it, everyone can see it – the reason they’re awful. I’m not a bad person, the fucking _world_ is bad!”

“Just in your shitty world view!” Ancom inched away from her, unwilling to take a full step back lest they admit defeat.

“Come _on_ , Ancom,” she parroted their words from the night before, “just admit it, you know exactly most people aren’t capable of shit without order and rules and hierarchy,” she gesticulated wildly around the kitchen, getting dangerously close now. Ancom could feel her surprisingly cold breath tickle their skin as her big, sky blue eyes drew ever closer.

“You want it, too, don’t you?” her voice grew sightly quieter, more alluring, but just as tempestuous. “You flaunt at Commie your complete inability to act right out of your own accord, basically begging her to finally give in and command you.”

They were touching now, Nazi’s hands reaching close into their space, and they were icy and the juxtaposition of her harsh words and her soft features, undercut by the ever growing shadow under her eyes – Ancom was almost like hypnotized, unable and unwilling to resist when Nazi finally closed the distance between them and kissed them.

Nazi didn’t kiss like the others, no. Where Ancap had been playful and Commie tender, Nazi ravaged, biting, hissing, brutal as the same frustration that laced her words pushed her tongue into Ancom’s waiting mouth, still so strangely cold as if she had just taken a sip of ice cold water. Her healthy hand roughly tangled in Ancom’s short curls and the memory of a high night with Nazi ordering them around as they knelt before her flashed across their vision.

With surprising strength, Nazi pushed them out of the kitchen, lips staying connected, and into her own room, slamming the door behind her. It was dark in her room and Ancom saw stars as they tripped onto the bed, Nazi hurriedly clambering on top of them; the desperation oozing out of the blonde spurred Ancom on as they loudly mewled into the kiss when they felt Nazi’s hands travel down towards their hips.

“Keep your whore-noises to yourself,” Nazi hissed, though it didn’t sound sincere, especially with how much more fervent her touches got whenever Ancom couldn’t contain their moans. “This is what you want, right? Finally someone to actually give you orders.”

Nazi’s hands were shaking, no, _she_ was shaking all over and she was so cold and every grab too rough and every trace of her fingers more like a scratch. Ancom had their eyes closed, whimpering at the pain of Nazi more fighting with them than engaging in foreplay.

“Does Commie make you cry like this?” She sounded so angry. “ _I’m_ going to make you cry.”

Ancom snapped their eyes open; Commie’s name shot through them like a scorching arrow, reminding them of where exactly they were, and if that hadn’t done it, then the sight of the terrifyingly huge flag looming over them would have; as their eyes adjusted to the dark, the horrid thing became properly visible and Nazi’s words and actions turned from arousing into violent.

They slapped Nazi across her face, causing her to wince and roll off of them. Seizing their chance, they tripped out of the bed, legs evading Nazi desperately reaching to grab them at the last moment. They rushed towards the door, Nazi still on the floor trying to regain her senses, and ran out into the corridor. Nazi was right on their heels as they slammed their broom closet door behind them, locking it just in time. They jumped a step back as Nazi slammed against it.

“ _Ancom!_ ” she called from outside, erratically knocking. “ _Ancom?_ ”

They stared at the door, face flushed and breathing shallow.

“ _Ancom? Please let me in, I- I’m_ ,” Nazi pleaded, knocking slowing down. “ _Let me in. Please, just- just let me in_.”

They stared in shock as Nazi audibly slid to the floor, nails scraping along the wooden door. Their heart beat up into their throat when they remembered her gun.

“ _Ancom? I, you have to let me in, I need to,_ ” the pleading devolved into wet hiccups and Ancom felt tears well up in their own eyes as well. “ _Please. Please let me in. I’m- I’m, let me try again. Please._ ”

Ancom stared at the door, still closed, listening carefully if Nazi would get up, run to her room. She didn’t. All they heard was bereft crying.

They wanted to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very short, but I hope the spiciness makes up for it :D
> 
> Pretty neat this ended up being Chapter 20, a round number! Hope you enjoy~


	21. Chapter 21

Ancom awoke to the sound of loud arguing outside. At first, they thought someone was talking in the corridor, then in the elevator hallway. But as they woke up properly, ears perking up, they realized that what had now turned into yelling came from _outside_ outside, from in front of the building.

Drowsy, they propped themselves up on their elbows, rubbing the sleep from their eyes; they felt damp and crusty, as if they had been crying.

They stilled.

Heartbeat loud in their chest, they quietly crawled over to the door, pressing their face into the floor to peek through the narrow gap under the door.

Sunlight easily passed through the slit; their throat sowed itself shut as they heavily got into a seating position, taking a look around the room. Just as sad as they day they had moved in here, only one shitty mattress richer.

They exhaled slowly. They should’ve never taken the weird stranger’s offer in the park. Should have never left their comfort zone.

_And what, loser? Become homeless instead?_

They shivered, a poetically timed gust of cold air wafting in through the crack under the door. Checking under the door once again to make sure that no one was out there, they got to their feet and placed their hands on the doorhandle.

 _Okay, just press it down really quietly_.

The stupid thing creaked loudly as if only to mock them. They glared at it as they carefully pushed open the door, sticking out their head to check if anyone was in the hallway. All clear.

They snuck over to the kitchen on feathery feet, skilled from years and years of stealing and hiding and breaking into places. The voices got louder, and Ancom realized how they’d been able to hear them: the window was open, and through it came a chilly draft carrying the angry voices from outside.

Standing on their tiptoes, they leaned out of the window, glancing down. They recognized Ancap standing there in her Italian suit but with hopelessly disheveled hair, some of her cousins next to her, wildly gesticulating at an unimpressed looking Neoliberal. Only the words ‘my property’ made it fully up to Ancom, then Ancap furiously stormed off, most of her cousins following after her.

Ancom quickly hopped down from the counter they’d been kneeling on to retreat to their room before Ancap would come in.

“Hey,” Nazi stood in the kitchen doorway, looking like she hadn’t slept for so much as an hour.

Ancom jolted back in surprise, redirecting their path to lead around the kitchen island as to maximize the distance between the two.

Nazi swallowed. Why had she come out? That was stupid. That was so fucking stupid of her. Her skin tingled hotly at the sight of Ancom cowering away from her and it hurt at the same time. They moved in tandem, Ancom drawing closer as Nazi circled further into the kitchen to make room for them in the doorway. Ancom fled as soon as they could, running off to their broom closet.

“Could’ve at least gone to the neighbor’s,” Nazi mumbled to herself, “that place actually has windows.”

She took a deep breath as she fixed herself coffee, nearly dropping her cup when the front door suddenly slammed. An unhinged Ancap stampeded into the kitchen, aggressively throwing down a stack of papers on the table. Nazi raised her brow but didn’t say anything, too busy wallowing in her own misery. She stole a glance out of the window; the security guards were all outside, heading for a van.

She tried to ignore the capitalist, but Ancap’s irate mumblings made it impossible to relax. Between curses so offensive even Nazi tended to use them sparsely and the shuffling of the pages, Ancap looked about ready to explode.

“What is it, then?” Nazi impatiently asked. Her roommate clearly wanted to talk about it, otherwise she’d be in her own room and not the kitchen.

“That _bitch_ ,” she spat, throwing another one of the pages down. They couldn’t possibly still be in the right order at this point.

“Did a hooker betray you?” Nazi mocked dryly.

“Don’t be smart with me, Nazi,” Ancap poisonously looked up. She turned back to her pages, shifting them around some more before breaking down into a deeply frustrated groan.

“I fucking lost. I lost _everything_.”

“How dramatic.”

Another glare. Nazi put on a sparkly smile.

“Yeah, yeah, smile as long as you still can,” Ancap defeatedly leaned back in her chair, turning her head to look out the window. “The house is being taken over.”

Nazi tilted her head, tone more careful now. “By who?”

“That jew lawyer _bitch_ Neoliberal.”

Nazi was slightly taken aback by the word choice, but tried not to show it. “Your cousin’s lawyer?”

“That’s the one,” she ran an exhausted hand through her short locks. “Not only did she find tax evasions on my part that I wasn’t even aware of, no, apparently, _someone_ filed an anonymous complaint because of the untaxed and underpaid labor I recently employed.”

Nazi leaned back against the counter, thoughtfully staring into her cup. “And she took over the case as practice, or what?”

“No,” Ancap shook her head, gaunt features much more prominent in the direct sunlight casting stark shadows on her face. “Her family is friendly with the county magistrate or something like that. Something with nepotism and her connections. I don’t know. Point is, she’s in charge now.”

That meant no more guards; Nazi could get behind that. She was a little upset to see her friend so distraught nonetheless.

“Do you want some coffee as well? Or tea?” she asked, turning to boil some water.

“Don’t care. I like both,” Ancap muttered, gaze still fixed on a random spot in the sky.

The whirring of the electric kettle filled the room. So that’s what a fallen titan looked like; exactly the same as before, but slightly more sulky. Honestly, Ancap had looked like absolute shit beforehand already. If that Neoliberal hadn’t swooped in, she would have probably starved.

Footsteps from a handful of people outside in the elevator hallway, together with murmuring voices.

“What’s that?” Nazi asked.

Ancap absentmindedly looked behind herself for a second before gazing back out the window. “Neoliberal has some of her cronies move in, as well as some other people, I think. Half of the apartments were empty, anyway,” she droned on.

Nazi poured her a cup of coffee, setting it down in front of her. Ancap didn’t register it at first; when she did, she nodded and pulled it closer to herself, but didn’t drink it. Nazi frowned.

Someone knocked at their door. Deciding Ancap was in no state to talk to anyone right now, Nazi pushed herself off of the counter and went to open it.

On the other side stood the head of the student union, some of her bland friends congregated in the hallway behind her.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, “we know each other already, right? I’m Neoliberal,” she held out her hand. Her smile was bright and sweet, unlike the tight facsimile Nazi gave her in return.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, trying not to shuffle in place as they awkwardly shook hands. Small world.

“I just wanted to meet some of my new tenants.” Jesus almighty, she was friendly. “It’s great I found you so quickly! After we talked at campus last week I _did_ have a look into you, and I’m afraid I'll have to check your room at some point.”

“What?” Nazi stood up straighter. “Uhm, I mean, why?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she tried to put a comforting hand on Nazi’s shoulder, but she evaded it just in time. “But I want to make sure I’m not harboring a fascist. I’ve heard,” she swayed her head, “a lot of unsavory things about this apartment building in general, if I’m honest.”

She laughed jovially, and Nazi tried to do the same, unsuccessfully. At least she didn’t seem to notice.

“Total horror stories course around campus about this place! I wasn’t surprised about drug use in student housing, but the noise and the fires and the extremist ideologues I’ve heard of were totally nuts.”

“Right,” Nazi ground out. “Lots of fires, yeah.”

“Pretty wild building you had there! But don’t worry, that nonsense is over now. I’ll also have to have a serious conversation with your neighbors. Or our neighbors now, if you will.” Still smiling. Nazi’s cheeks hurt from trying to keep up.

“So, I’ll just need to check your room if that’s okay with-”

“No!” Nazi exclaimed. Beginning to sweat nervously, she added a hurried explanation of her room being super dirty right now.

“Ah. Okay, no I get it,” Neoliberal twirled her fingers at her. “You got some embarrassing stuff lying around. That’s alright, I’m totally still busy right now, but I’ll come back later,” she winked.

Nazi nodded tersely.

“Is your apartment also the one where the unregistered party with the homeless folks happened?” she asked.

“No,” Nazi answered and all but slammed the door in her face.

Shocked, she wobbled back to the kitchen, plopping down in her usual chair and joining Ancap in looking out of the window.

“She’s awful, right?” Ancap muttered.

“The fucking _worst_.”

They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the new tenants moving in next door.

“What’s going to happen now?” Nazi asked. It was getting really cold in the kitchen. Someone should get up and close the window.

Ancap sighed, finally changing position. “I don’t know,” she said, hunched over her cup of cold coffee. “I’d take down that flag if I were you. Unless you want to be thrown out.”

“Were you in my room?” Nazi’s eyes snapped towards Ancap.

Ancap nodded. “I wanted to know who I was doing business with.”

Nazi settled back in her seat. They had bigger problems right now. “Is that why you got so concerned with me...you know, all of a sudden?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” Ancap exhaled. “Okay, maybe. Your room is creepy as shit, dude. How do you ever get laid?”

“Drunk people are idiots,” she shrugged. “And I at least take down the flag when I have a date or there’s a party.”

“Sounds like a total hassle. Just leave it down.”

“Fuck off. I like it.”

Ancap chuckled lightly, throwing a friendly, but sad grin at her friend. “You do you, honey, you do you.” She turned back at the window. “Sorry I looked through your room, though. You really shouldn’t have kept it unlocked.”

“Are you sorry or not?” It was Nazi’s turn to smirk at her. Somehow, she couldn’t muster up the energy to get angry.

Okay, now it was _really_ getting chilly in the kitchen. Nazi would’ve gotten up and fixed it, but that would have meant moving, and moving meant getting even colder.

“Ancom is going to lose her room as well,” Ancap mused.

Nazi perked up at that, suddenly tense again. “Why’s that?” she asked, trying to sound normal and failing miserably.

The brunette threw her a look, but didn’t ask. “That’s not a real room. It’s against regulations to have people live in rooms without windows.”

“And it’s better for her to live on the street?”

Ancap shrugged. “Apparently.”

Silence fell over them again.

“I think I’m gonna go clean up my room.”

Ancap nodded.

“What are w- you going to do about Ancom?” Nazi asked before leaving the kitchen proper.

“She’ll just have to keep quiet whenever Neoliberal is around. Or any of her friends.” Ancap got up and walked to the fridge, pulling out two beers. She tossed one at Nazi. She only barely caught it.

They tipped the bottles at each other before drinking.

“God. Drugs in the early morning,” Nazi scowled at her bottle.

“That’s the life,” Ancap tipped hers again. “If you give that piece of shit a reason to look through my room and take my drug stash I _will_ kill you, fyi.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“And hide that goddamn rifle! I think that normally needs to be registered,” Ancap took a hefty swig.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nazi hesitated in the doorway. “How do you think Commie’s going to take it once she’s back?” she asked after a moment.

Ancap looked back at her over her shoulder. “With any luck, she’ll call her a kulak and try to snap her neck when she realizes she can’t call the authorities on that goodie two-shoes.”

Nazi gripped her bottle more tightly.

“She’ll probably just sulk and write a dissertation on the evil of lawyers or whatever in her weird diary, though.”

“Did you snoop through her room as well?”

“Nope. She leaves that thing lying around open; fair game I’d say.”

“Right,” Nazi said, getting to her room for real now. She had so much shit to stash away, she didn’t even know where to start.

Ancom listened anxiously to the rumbling and mumbling happening to all sides of their room; new and unfamiliar voices to the right, stuff being moved around from behind, and Ancap leisurely talking to Nazi from in front of them.

And their phone quietly buzzing to their left.

They stared at the lit screen, stiffly lying on their arm as they watched it shift slightly with each vibration. It looked cute, like a little robot. They had to giggle.

They heard Nazi’s door open and close. For a moment, they went rigid as a board, but the motions didn’t sound aggressive. They relaxed again, picking up their phone to stare at it some more.

Two missed calls. That wasn’t even that many. Commie seemed to be really busy with her family; Ancom would’ve expected a flurry of calls by now.

They unlocked their phone, looking through their pictures. There weren’t exactly many, but the few they had were of them and Commie doing something cute together. Or pictures of Commie when she was just looking absolutely gorgeous. Like this one, from when they had gone out to dinner to celebrate their first week together; Commie had been stylish as always, face less pale in the warm glow of the candle as she benevolently raised her brows at Ancom fumbling around with their phone camera. Ancom admitted it, they were kind of proud that someone as cool, attractive, tall, intelligent and full of integrity was interested in them like that. Yeah, Commie was also weird and nerdy about her ‘theory’ and the disturbing amount of details she knew about tanks, but that just made Ancom like her more.

Just being seen with her in public was weirdly flattering. Ancom was a freak and they knew it, at least to daytime society, but Commie didn’t care.

But that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it. She _really_ didn’t care.

They had never gotten around to finishing that dinner. Ancom had convinced Commie to bolt without paying the tab because the restaurant was stuffy and they had felt uncomfortable the whole time; they had pretended not to see Commie secretly placing the money for the bill under a plate for one of the employees to find.

They had run off to where Ancom felt more comfortable: nature at night. Ancom had taken the bread they’d been served at the restaurant as well as an unguarded bottle of wine, and so they made themselves comfortable on a field, early fall air cool, but not cold as they laughed and dreamily stared into the river further ahead. Commie had gotten pretty drunk on the wine, and Ancom was able to seduce her into having sex out in the open, starry skies above, casting a beautiful halo around Commie’s head.

Ancom sniffled. Very romantic, sure. Very unlike the terrible fight that literally their first day together started with. They never had cleared that up.

They curled further into themselves. They weren’t all that sweet either, were they.

The sound of something crashing startled them; it came from Nazi’s room, as well as a string of very explicit curses. Always so angry. Nazi was always angry, always tense as a drawn spring, ready to snap.

But Ancom was also angry a lot; they drowned it in the charming allure of drugs, but it was there, they felt it. They weren’t _scared_ of the guards; they were fucking pissed at them for being such pieces of shit; sometimes even for giving people like Nazi ammunition.

A dull thud and more cursing from Nazi’s room. She was really clumsy most of the time, wasn’t she. Except for yesterday, where the only thing that was clumsy about her had been how roughly she grabbed at Ancom, pushing and pulling at them with full force. But Ancom had liked that, hadn’t they? Or had it just been the adrenaline?

They remembered her pretty face, contorted with frustration, and it was exciting, but for the most part it made them sick. They thought back to the end, and the nausea became nearly overwhelming; they could still perfectly hear the high-pitched whining an begging and they just didn’t know what to do with it, had no way of categorizing it.

Commie called them, again. That was more like her.

“Hey,” Ancom said quietly after picking up.

“ _Hey, how are you doing? Everything alright?_ ”

“Yeah. Uh huh,” Ancom droned. They shouldn’t have picked up.

“ _You don’t sound so good._ ”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s been weird, but it- it’s okay.”

“ _Are you still angry with me about the fight yesterday?_ ”

Oh, right. Ancom had almost forgotten.

“I. I think so.”

Confused noises from the other end of the line. “ _Are you angry or not?_ ”

“I’m not sure yet, okay?”

Short silence.

“ _Fine. Take care around the kulaks, then. I’ll be back tomorrow._ ”

“Okay. Good luck, I guess.”

Commie hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I actually got to bed at like grandpa times, so I wasn't awake when I usually update, haha
> 
> Please enjoy! I also began proofreading the backlog of chapters and BOY do I misgender Ancom often in the beginning. But the worst offences should be fixed now


	22. Chapter 22

Ancap curled her lip as she stared down from her kitchen window. Well, it wasn’t really _her_ kitchen window anymore, by no stretch. It belonged to Neoliberal now. She scowled, watching workers, surely at least as underpaid as hers were but with more legal fiddling behind it to make it acceptable, as they took down her beautiful ‘Ancapistan’ sign. She heavily debated dumping her hot tea down at them out of spite.

Her phone rang, hindering her from executing her plan.

“Yello?”

“ _Ancap!_ ” her cousins whiny voice blared at her from the phone. Lucky for her, Ancap wasn’t as sensitive to noises anymore now that she had less reasons – and less money – to constantly get high. Otherwise she would’ve hung up straight away.

“What is it now?” she sighed.

“ _People are moving into my flat_ ,” Libertarian sounded like she was near tears. Ah, right; Ancap had graciously let her have an apartment all to herself for a discount, a whole four people one as well. Libertarian was about as private as Ancap and at least thrice as lavish. And, unlike their other cousins and their individual delusions of grandeur, actually had the money to afford paying for four people – a little less, due to the discount.

Of course Neoliberal wouldn’t allow any of her precious new property go to waste; all the rooms that had until now stood vacant were being filled up by the large crowd of students who had yet to find a flat, and at a more affordable price than what Ancap had charged, too. That bitch lawyer was undercharging because she knew she had an underbelly of cash from her family, so she could outbid some of the other housing buildings. It wasn’t even her own money that she was relying on.

“And what am I supposed to do now?” she asked languidly as she dropped a bit of her tea at the workers below. She missed.

“ _I don’t know, something!_ ”

“She’s your friend, Lib, not mine.”

“ _But she won’t listen to me! She just keeps talking about the housing crisis or something like we don’t live in a shanty town in the middle of nowhere_!” she niveled.

“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought about who’s side you want to be on before giving her all my documents. Or learned to stick up for yourself,” Ancap snapped.

“ _What? I didn’t give her your documents!_ ”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“ _No, seriously,_ ” Libertarian defended, “ _I didn’t give her anything after the semester opening party, I swear. Everything else she did was on her own accord._ ”

Ancap was confused, but didn’t let it shine through. “You still gave her the idea to look into my paperwork. That’s on you,” she stated, considering heavily to hang up.

Short silence. “ _Yeah. Sorry about that._ ”

Ancap let her dangle for a few seconds, stew in her own guilt. “You really didn’t give her any of my paperwork after the party?”

“ _No! Absolutely not. Ancapistan wasn’t perfect, but it had a lot of potential and I was glad to have been a part of it._ ”

Ancap harrumphed. “Well, it’s gone now. Can’t do anything about it either. I have my own problems to deal with, you’re just going to have to live with your new roomies.”

They hung up and Ancap sighed heavily. She realized dropping the tea wouldn’t work, since it would get cold on the way down. Maybe she could still get somebody wet, though.

The front door opened, Commie coming back, looking worn, but content. That contentedness was going to have to move for something else once she heard the bad news.

“Was ‘Ancapistan’ a trademarked brand or why did you take it down?” she asked, dropping her small duffel bag in her room and brushing past Ancap and into the kitchen. Ancap watched with a hint of disgust as Commie drank straight from the faucet.

“Just use a glass, dude. Ancom is rubbing off on you.” Commie put up her middle finger, continuing to drink. “And no, it wasn’t. You can do a happy dance or whatever, because I lost ownership of the house.”

Commie tried to shoot up, but hit her head against the tap, tangling her hair in it. “You did?” she beamed as she tried to extricate herself from the faucet.

“Yep.” It was always fun to listen to people gloat when she knew exactly that bad news were about to hit them.

“Did ownership go back to the county?” Commie asked, upright, but still trying to untangle her hair.

“Nope, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you, statist.” Commie just shot her a contemptuous grin. “No, it got taken over by a fledgling lawyer from a bourgeois family,” Ancap examined her nails; the sparkly black paint was chipped and under it, she could see the beginnings of her nails cracking. How worrisome.

“Anyone is better than you, kulak.”

“Yeah, I think she’s also a kulak, if I’m honest.“ Ancap put on her best shit-eating grin. “But she’s very lawful, being a lawyer and all. And guess who hasn’t been paying rent and living in a room not technically up for renting out?”

Commie’s face fell.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she looked back at her fingernails. They looked really worrisome; she should go see a doctor or something. “It’s great that she follows state rules. The state takes care of everything, right? It’s totally unethical to house people in room’s that don’t obey regulations; I’m sure the state will provide shelter for Ancom.”

Commie opened and closed her mouth, gaping like a fish. She mumbled something along the lines of an explanation, but Ancap didn’t even listen to her. It looked pathetic; Commie had already looked so exhausted when she walked in, but within those two minutes, she looked just about ready to faint. She propped herself up against the counter.

“We can say Ancom lives with me-”

“Then they’d still have to pay fucking rent. And I know you can’t afford that.”

Commie furrowed her brows at her.

“I had your family’s credit checked out. And you keep leaving your diary open on the table.”

“But...why would they have to pay extra rent if we don’t take up more space? That doesn’t make any sense,” Commie grimaced at her.

Ancap threw up her hands. “It’s against the weird, I don’t know, campus housing regulations of the town or something. Neoliberal said something about a precedent, because I _did_ ask. I’m not a fan of this either.”

The taller girl shook her head; neither of them were in a particularly great state right now. Commie looked even more sallow than usual, eyes sunken and clearly still tightly wound from whatever she had been up to at home, and Ancap felt more like a recovering drug addict than an up and coming real estate titan; both of them were weakened and worn and definitely not ready to deal with a force like Neoliberal.

“I guess we’ll just have to hide them,” Ancap tried to sound more amicable.

“We’ll have to work together for that,” Commie said after a while.

“Probably.”

Commie looked out of the window. “Why do you give a shit all of a sudden? I,” she looked down at Ancap, righting herself, “I don’t really trust this, if I’m honest.”

Ancap laughed, though her voice cracked halfway through and she broke out into a fit of coughs. She spat some slime into the sink, washing it away; Commie looked appalled.

“I just hate that lawyer. She stole my fucking property by disowning me; that’s not trade, that’s just being a huge cunt,” she fiddled some cigarettes out of her pack, lighting one. Commie made a face. “Are you going to tell Ancom?”

Startled, Commie vehemently shook her head. “No. Yes. Maybe.”

Ancap raised her brows.

“We- We’re not on good terms right now. I don’t think I should be the one to deliver the news to them.”

Ancap leaned out the window to exhale the smoke. “Well, who else is going to, then? Doubt they’ll want Nazi to be the messenger and you still look ready to strangle me whenever I so much as stand in the same room as them.” She took another drag. That was much better.

Shoulders slumping, Commie looked off to the side. “I won’t strangle you this time, kulak.”

“Splendid. I’ll go tell them right now.”

They discussed the details a little further, then Ancap pushed herself off the counter, putting her cigarette out on the windowsill. She finished those way too quickly.

When she reached the doorway, she hesitated for a second. “And Commie?”

The taller girl looked up.

“I’ve very obviously always given a shit. At least a little bit.”

Commie nodded. “You should smoke less, kulak. Your cough sounds awful.”

“Sure,” she left, walking over to Ancom’s room, knocking and pushing down the handle right after. It was locked. She knocked again. As per usual, awkward shuffling behind the door, this time coming distinctly from the floor. Nobody in this goddamn apartment ever got up normally to open their door, they all first conducted some sort of ritual before they twisted the lock.

“Is this why you never bother knocking?” she called into the kitchen. Commie just grinned at her.

Ancom let her in, quickly closing and locking the door behind them.

“Wow, that lock Commie bought you really paid off, didn’t it?” Ancap looked at the crude installation, giving it a gentle flick.

“She wanted my door to be equal to yours.”

“I was wondering why she got it for you. She’s not fond of respecting privacy, is she.”

“Do we have to talk about her?” Ancom hugged themselves.

“No. I’m here about something else,” Ancap stood up straighter, considering heavily to pull out another smoke. “Someone else owns the house now and that means things are going to change.”

“Does that mean no more securities?” Ancom barely let her finish.

Ancap rolled her eyes. “Among other things.” Ancom’s eyes sparkled. “More importantly, you’re not actually allowed to live in here, and actually have to pay rent now.”

Now, they blanched, already beginning to sputter about being broke. Ancap held up a silencing hand.

“I know, I know. Commie and I already agreed to hide you, but you’re going to have to play along.”

“Why can’t I live here anymore?” they complained regardless.

“Because I don’t make the rules anymore. Neoliberal does, and Neoliberal’s shitty local legal code says you either pay normal rent or get out.”

Ancom furrowed their brows, trying to think of something to retort.

“Save it. You can go argue with her, but that’ll only land you on the street. First thing we’re going to do is get rid of that mattress and move the last of your shit to Commie’s room, otherwise it’ll be too obvious someone lives here.”

“I-”

“Please shut up. I know you two are fighting again, but her room is bigger than mine, so that’s just where you’re going for now.”

Ancom’s eyes looked watery as they so often did, and Ancap felt a familiar sting that she hadn’t felt in a while.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” she said, trying to sound comforting. “None of us are a fan of this arrangement. Commie doesn’t want you thrown out, Nazi is nervous as hell about having to hide her shit, and I want my fucking building back. We’ll figure it out together.” She drew the smaller person in for a short hug.

“It’s not like you have to stay in her room all the time,” Ancap smirked as they released each other. “You can hang out with Posadist or your homeless friends. Your stuff will just be there, and maybe your bed. And you can still sleep on the floor in this room; not comfy, but better than nothing.”

“I don’t want to fucking hide,” they ground out.

“You’re really good at sneaking around though. Even better than I am, if I say so myself,” Ancap goaded, trying to get them more malleable. It worked a little bit.

“But I hate hiding.”

“It’s hiding or the streets.”

“What about fighting?”

“In due time, honey, in due time,” Ancap ruffled their hair before leaving the room again.

Ancap finally left their room and they immediately took a pile of clothes and muffled their scream into it.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck god _damn_ it. They didn’t want to be homeless now of all times, just before winter and just after fighting with Commie – that wasn’t what this had been about.

Unwilling to face any of the others, they waited on their mattress, nervously fiddling with their phone until Ancap came back to take said mattress with her; she assured them she’d only stow it, not throw it away. Finally, day turned into evening and Ancom trusted themselves to sneak out; they were going back to the bridge.

They were choosing the words for when they’d see the stranger again as they crept into the elevator hallway when they stopped in their tracks.

The darkly clad figure, looking strange and out of place in the warmly lit corridor, was looking them straight in the eyes.

They stared at each other for a moment, Ancom feverishly trying to figure out whether they could be hallucinating. The figure regained their composure first, trying to quickly disappear into the door of the floor’s empty flat, but Ancom reacted faster, throwing their phone at the figure’s head. The figure winced and staggered for a second, just enough time for Ancom to corner them a safe distance away from the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ancom hissed.

“I live here,” the figure whined, nursing their head where the phone had hit it.

“No, you don’t. That apartment is empty, you jerk.”

Just then, someone else leaned out the door of the ‘empty’ apartment. “Nihilist, everything alright out there?” the pain looking girl asked.

“Yeah,” Ancom harshly stepped on the figure’s foot to keep them from speaking, “just talking,” they forced a smile. The plain girl nodded and retreated back into the room, closing the door behind her.

“What’s happening here?” they spat, turning back to the stranger from the bridge. They pushed Ancom off of them.

“I just moved in with the others.”

“What others?”

“Other students and Neo’s friends,” Nihilist combed some of their long, black hair out of their face.

“Neo? Neoliberal? You know each other?”

“Yeah we do,” a stilted grin, “we happen to study together.”

“I- I thought you were homeless, how can you afford this place?” Ancom furrowed their brows.

Nihilist darkly laughed. “I only couldn’t afford the jacked up prices that horrible family owning all the fucking campus housing asks for. I _can_ afford this.”

“Well, _I_ can’t,” Ancom shook them.

“Sucks to be you.”

“What? _You_ were the one who told me to do this in the first place! Were you trying to get me evicted?”

“I didn’t tell you to do anything-”

“You heavily implied it! What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

They shrugged. “Dude, I was just trying not to be on the streets anymore. It’s getting real cold out there,” they weaved past Ancom, too out of it to stop them. “Look, I don’t feel great about it, but Neo told me about this shady apartment building she was trying to get a hold of and you happened to live in it. And those securities are gone now, right?”

They retreated to their door, Ancom helplessly watching on.

“How did you afford this in the first place? It’s much cheaper now,” Nihilist’s hand was already on the handle.

“I couldn’t. I-”

“Well, then it doesn’t matter anyway,” they said, disappearing behind the door.

Ancom stood alone in the corridor.

The next door leaned open. Posadist stepped out, arms crossed.

“How much did you hear?” Ancom asked, eyes wide.

“Too much,” Posadist didn’t look particularly angry; she was wearing one of her ugly tinfoil antennae, making the whole situation feel sillier than it was.

Ancom opened their mouth to explain, but Posadist just walked back inside her flat, gesturing for Ancom to follow. Behind her blinking door, they sat opposite each other.

“Are you going to tell the others?” Ancom blurted out after a few moments.

Posadist sighed; it was very uncharacteristic of her. “No; you seem like you’re being punished enough already. And you did get rid of those pesky guards,” she swiveled on her chair, fingers grazing her ever growing contraption. Her room was practically all contraption now, instruments stuffed away on the floor, along with gas masks and filters that had by now been amassed down there as well.

“I actually wanted to tell you I already have a plan to fix this though.”

“Will the aliens help us?” Ancom said sarcastically, immediately biting their tongue. They were in no position to be snarky with her.

“No,” Posadist sounded surprisingly chipper. “But I need that lawyer and her cronies far away from my room, and other places later on. Can you do that for me?”

“Is,” Ancom fidgeted in their seat, “is this a plan or is this just you wanting to do your weird,” they gestured vaguely at the piping strewn around them, “art thing?”

“Do it or I’ll tell the others,” she said sweetly.

Ancom swallowed. “Alright.”

They paused for a second.

“The others want me to hide.”

“Sounds like a wise plan.”

They sighed, having expected that answer. “I hate hiding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I'm so sorry this ended up another filler chapter >A< next one should be spicier, at least that's the plan.
> 
> Not my proudest chapter and I have no excuse, but I hope you get something out of it anyways. And if not, I'll just try again tomorrow :D


	23. Chapter 23

Nazi rubbed her temples, leaning on her elbow in the foyer of the apartment building. There was a big, mandatory tenant meeting going on seeing that the new owner of the house wanted to meet everybody. She had already rudimentarily searched Nazi’s room earlier that day and luckily found nothing for the time being, but had hinted at another investigation following if Nazi came up on her radar again; of course she conducted neither the search in Nazi’s room nor in the broom closet alone, always having at least one or two of her horrifyingly bland friends along.

Nazi was surprised that she had seen most of the folks at the meeting already at the two parties; she would’ve thought they already lived here, but apparently, more than half of them were newcomers. Any attempts to ask a sulking Ancap about the subject were grumpily waved off.

Not that Nazi didn’t understand her. The meeting reeked of boring mediocrity so offensive that Nazi actually felt better instead of worse when her eyes fell on Homonationalist, sitting there and looking equally pissed off. She half expected her to jump up and shout ‘race war now’ or something rash and idiotic like that; Nazi had to admit that it would be very amusing to see the normies at the front being completely overchallenged by someone with real beliefs.

Everyone had been grouped into their rooms while Neoliberal and a particularly flavorless girl stood at the front, talking about the new rules and ‘perks’. They wanted to install building-wide Alexas ‘to make communication easier and life more modern’, prompting like half of the room to murmur in disagreement. They were outnumbered though, and so democracy struck again. Nazi had exchanged knowing looks with Ancap; theirs was going straight behind a soundproof wall of towels.

“Some freedoms have to be sacrificed for the greater good,” the pretty brunette laughed; she thought she was making a joke. Nazi hadn’t been listening enough to get the context, but had to scowl either way.

Her eyes drifted over the small crowd; she spotted Ancap’s clingy cousin, looking very uncomfortable sitting between one of Ancom’s and one of Commie’s friends that she had seen around at the semester opening party. On the table next to them, she spotted several people from that one time she had inadvertently met Neoliberal in the campus park, but couldn’t for the life of her tell apart. They all seemed completely braindead, nodding and smiling along to everything their god-queen Neoliberal proposed. As her eyes continued on their journey across the room, they landed on an overly familiar looking scraggly brunette.

She tapped Commie’s shoulder, leaning over behind Ancap to whisper to her.

“Look who’s here,” she pointed at Nazbol, herself squeezed between someone unironically rocking google glasses and a girl reminding her painfully of Ancom.

Commie seemed to only see the Ancom lookalike instead of Nazi’s coworker, expression immediately forlorn. Nazi swallowed, settling back in her seat; whatever Nazbol was doing here. Didn’t she live with her parents?

“We want to build an atmosphere of tolerance towards all races and genders,” Neoliberal purred, her bland friends and some others clapping, “so there will be a zero tolerance policy on slurs and other forms of hatecrimes.”

One of Ancap’s cousins tried to get up to protest, but another one of the lot pulled her back down before she could. She’d better shut up if she didn’t also want her room searched.

“There will be a general zero tolerance policy on violence. Extremism of any kind will not be permitted.” A pointed look at their table.

Maybe Ancom would’ve been on board with the hatecrime part, but latest now was where Neoliberal would’ve lost them. Nazi looked over at Commie, seething in her seat; she was probably still annoyed about the segment of the meeting talking about not letting homeless people sleep in the corridors or other spare rooms of the apartments, lest the other tenants feel uncomfortable. And the fact that Neoliberal was making the rules now, not Commie.

“How many cousins do you actually have, Ancap?” Nazi asked when the meeting was finally over and they got out of their seats without clapping.

“What?” Ancap turned around to face her, clearly still busy glaring daggers at her new rival. “I don’t know, four of them live here. Who’s asking?”

“Trying to figure out who will be on our side for this,” Nazi muttered under her breath.

Ancap chuckled tiredly. “Most of my cousins are useless as shit. But yeah, four it is then. I guess we’re already,” she counted for a second, “eight people including Ancom.”

“I’m sure the wackies from next door aren’t fans of this either,” Commie stated, stealing a glance at said neighbors; they were awkwardly shuffling around Neoliberal and her friends trying to make small talk with them. The wackies were really not good at small talk; one of the lawyer’s friends with strong horse girl energy tried to compliment Posadist’s dolphin t-shirt. Posadist responded with something creepy and grinned at her, prompting the two groups to part.

“Eleven, then.”

“Strength in numbers, right?” Nazi supplied, hopefully looking up at Commie; it made her stomach churn with something someone might describe as guilt. The taller girl nodded and they walked back to the elevator together, foregoing it when they saw the small queue that had formed there.

Ancap derisively shook her head. “A queue in front of my own fucking elevator,” she muttered as they went for the staircase instead.

“Has anyone actually seen Ancom?” Nazi asked as they took the flights. Ancap looked back at her suspiciously. Commie only flinched.

“Since when do you care?” Ancap asked, wiping under her nose as it began to randomly bleed. She frowned at the blood, pulling out a cloth tissue with her family insignia on it to wipe it off.

“You really need to lay off the drugs,” Nazi made a face as Ancap unsophisticatedly pushed the tissue into her nose.

“You really need to stop telling me what to do,” her voice turned comically nasal. “The nosebleeds only started when I stopped taking them.”

“Tell yourself that,” Nazi leaned away from her as she stuffed the cloth back into the pockets of her expensive suit. Gross.

“I don’t know, though,” Ancap continued; Commie was uncomfortably silent the entire time. “She- they- she- _Ancom_ left sometime in the morning, trying to hide from Neoliberal.”

Nazi and Commie both raised their brows at the initial stuttering, but let it slide.

“Please tell me you’re going to play along with our plan,” Ancap pleaded suddenly, looking over at Nazi.

“Don’t worry about it,” the taller blonde somberly waved her off. “Every extreme is on the same team, right?”

Finally, Commie chuckled, even if very quietly.

“You fascists love rhyming, don’t you?” she tiredly smirked down at Nazi. The latter swallowed as their eyes met; she had to get to Ancom before they spilled anything to Commie if she didn’t want her neck snapped.

“It’s a cool slogan,” Ancap grinned, panting lightly as they reached the top of the stairs. “I’m going to market it to the wackies, that’ll get them on our side for sure.”

“The fascist rhymes and the capitalist markets it. As if you two were meant to work together,” Commie snorted.

“Oh yeah? Well, what do you bring to the table?” Ancap put her hands on her hips as they walked up to their flat.

“I’m very intimidating.”

“Pff,” Ancap waved her hands at her, moving towards the kitchen. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said, pulling out three beers from the fridge.

“I’m really good at organizing things,” she suggested. “And math.”

“There we go, we could use that,” Ancap chuckled, handing her roommates the excess bottles.

Nazi thoughtfully took hers, rolling it around in her hands for a moment. This was nice. She liked this; what a common enemy did for unity. She’d always known that.

Someone knocked at their front door. Only Nazi seemed to have heard it, so she went to open it, and, expectedly, one of Neoliberal’s bland friends stood there.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked. Nazi furrowed her brows, but complied, hoping it would make her seem less suspicious.

“I’ve heard this floor here has been especially prone to...events,” she looked from left to right. Her left eye didn’t move properly and Nazi swallowed down her irritation.

“Has it,” Nazi replied, voice monotonous.

“Yeah. Well, that may be because the former owner lives here, but,” she righted herself, staring down at Nazi, “I just wanted to let you know that I, or we, won’t be tolerating _any_ form of extremism. Neo likes giving free passes for liberty's sake, but the rest of us don’t.”

Nazi nodded, looking unimpressed.

“So,” the girl stabbed a finger at Nazi’s chest and it was so difficult not to flinch away, but she couldn’t show any weakness, “nothing radical, alright? I want to see nothing at all.” She began to turn away. “I got my eyes on you lot,” she said, and she was just about to finally take a hike, but still had to jab at Nazi’s shoulder a last time. Reflexes taking over, Nazi grabbed her fingers, twisting them back. They cracked painfully and Nazi reveled in the sound, drowning in the surprised shriek of the girl falling to her knees before her.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nazi snarled, the frail fingers still gripped tightly. The girl whimpered, face angled down at the floor. The rush of adrenaline staggered her as she looked at her victim, realizing it was _her_ who had brought the stupid bitch down.

“And don’t go crying to your little leader.”

“Or what?” the girl wheezed, vainly trying to sound spiteful.

“You can figure that out by yourself,” Nazi let go of the fingers and quickly made for the staircase, flying down the cold concrete steps.

Her head spun as she lightly jogged out into the cold night, wrapping her old fashioned cardigan around herself; she took a sip of the beer she was still carrying, hoping the alcohol would warm her up.

She felt dizzy and empty, somehow; as the late fall air cooled her head, the emptiness turned into anger, then frustration. Her thoughts ambled to Neoliberal joking with her friend about nobody _really_ being a fascist, trying to include Nazi in the joke. Nazi felt her face contort as she relived the intense desire to prove that _bitch_ wrong and show her she existed, show her the true extent of what she believed. Neoliberal was so infuriatingly delusional in her cutesy little house of cards where everyone gets an equal chance and a vote and that’s supposed to just somehow work out.

She ended up at the bridge, as usual; she hated that stupid bridge. It was ugly and modern, a soulless construction made of steel and wires, destroying the landscape around it; it didn’t fit in with the beautiful scenery of the trees and the homely fields and the romantic river burbling underneath. Somehow, she was still drawn to it, drawn to the irregularity much more than she would’ve been to a sweet wooden version.

Her pace slowed as she neared it. She hadn’t really thought about where she was going or what she was doing, but as her feet lightly tapped the asphalt, she knew why she had come here.

She didn’t see, but heard them, faint voice drifting through the dark. She took a moment to realize where it was coming from: beneath her. She stepped off the bridge again, following the indistinct murmur as it lead her down the grassy hill underneath the bridge. Huddled up in a nook between two of the bridge’s pillars sat Ancom, head shooting up when they noticed Nazi standing there, pale moonlight hitting her from behind.

“Don’t run away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suuuuuper short chapter today because the actual chapter is getting way too long and i can't finish it today either without it being rushed; so you get a cliffhanger instead! Great, right? :D
> 
> Maybe I'm being overly emotional, but so far this has been a pretty wild ride; I never really thought I would be writing for anyone but myself, what with catering to a niche in a niche. So, yeah. Weird, to be honest. But kinda cool. Okay very cool-
> 
> Gonna stop blabbering now and get to bed so I can finish the next chapter tomorrow please enjoy~


	24. Chapter 24

“Don’t run away,” Nazi said, tone neither soft nor commanding. Ancom stayed put as she carefully treaded closer, heels of her preppy dancing shoes digging into the moist earth beneath her with every step. She was going to have to clean them.

“What are you doing here?” the two of them asked at the same time.

“I’m hiding from Neoliberal."

“And I’m clearly looking for you,” Nazi tried to smile, but it was stilted as usual; she just hoped Ancom couldn’t see it in the darkness.

“You look really fucking cold,” Ancom stated, eyeing Nazi’s vaguely Victorian get up, sweet teacup dress and heels serving as no protection against the biting wind.

“I _am_ cold.” She hovered in her spot, looking down at her former roommate. Lifting her bottle, she took another sip; it got a little warmer in her stomach. “There was a shitty tenant meeting. That Neoliberal broad _sucks_ ,” Nazi noticed her words beginning to slur. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the slight buzz.

“Nazi, what...what do you want? I- I don’t get it. I don’t get you.” Their voice was forlorn and Nazi hated that she couldn’t see Ancom’s face properly.

“Take a number. Nobody does,” she took another sip, beginnings of dizziness spreading in her head.

“No, I- that too. But, I mean, tha- that night, why?” They paused for a moment. “Are you just the repressed fascist stereotype?”

A bark of laughter; it sounded cold and hard, like the wind. “Maybe, if that’s the way you want to look at it.”

Ancom faced the other direction, looking downstream. “Why me? Was it just random, or-”

“Not random,” Nazi was resolute. “Look, I...”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. Not anymore”

“You planned for over month to get rid of me. Now you did it.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“But it’s done, right? Move on and live your life in your,” they made vague motions with their hands, “ethnically homogeneous apartment building I guess.” Ancom turned towards her again, awkwardly angling up their head. “What are you still doing here?”

“I,” Nazi sighed, letting a strong gust of wind push her a step forward. What _was_ she doing here? Saving her skin from Commie’s inevitable wrath? “I find myself wanting to convince you.”

“Convince me of what? That you’re a massive jerk off?”

Nazi shook her head, grimacing. “No, Ancom, I- I want your approval. Even if I’m shit at it.” _Stop talking_.

Ancom stared up at her with abject confusion.

Nazi sighed, leaning against a pillar. The metal was icy and dug uncomfortably into her back.

“Look, I get it. People hate me, yeah, great, I know.”

Saying it out loud hurt more than she wanted to admit to herself. A thousand prickling needles on her skin, one for each disapproving gaze or insult or threat she had gotten thrown at her in the past.

“But you. You have...real opinions. A real point.”

“So do other people,” Ancom hugged their knees to their chest.

“Fuck other people,” Nazi spat suddenly. “I’m not letting myself get judged by selfish liars like Ancap or holier-than-thou proto dictators like Commie. Don’t you get it?” She leaned down a little to get closer, see their face just a tiny little bit better. “Your ideas are lofty and stupid and won’t ever fucking work but you’re _trying_. Trying to be good.” She stood back up. “But you’re wrong. You’ll just hurt more people with your anarchy.”

She stared back ahead, at the other side of the river. It hadn’t rained in a while, so the water was shallow, prettily sparkling nonetheless as the stars shone down on it.

“I know you don’t believe me, nobody does. But I’m- I’m not inherently evil.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

Nazi whipped her head around, frowning. “You know, I don’t really get why. Alright, so I say things that you don’t like. But look around you, Ancom,” she pushed herself off the pillar. “What have I actually done? And what have you and the others done?”

Ancom looked up at her, brows low; the white of Ancom’s eyes stood starkly against their dark skin. Like a hoodlum, but alluring with the black fringe reaching their strong brows and the wild fire behind their eyes. Nazi caught herself staring, quickly getting back to her angry speech when she noticed.

“You yourself trashed the entire apartment, causing us to have to clean it for several days until the stench was gone. And you were of absolutely no help during that, either.” Her words sped up, growing slightly louder.

“You don’t pay rent, but Ancap often randomly jacked up the prices, and demanded much higher rent than student housing is supposed to ask for; she practically extorted money out of students who didn’t want to or couldn’t just up and leave, and she made you sell your body to her! And Commie straight up tried to control and seduce you into becoming a mini version of herself! How are these things not worse than me sometimes, rarely, saying something nasty?”

She ran a hand through her hair, getting caught in it and having to fumble around with it to get her fingers back out. Whining in frustration, she fervently pulled out the bow she had tied in her hair, finally disentangling her hands. She probably looked tousled as shit now.

Ancom watched her silently. Eventually, they pulled out a joint from a pocket of their windbreaker, holding it out to Nazi. The blonde girl looked down at it, flushed and upset, aggressively grabbing it after a few moments.

“You got a lighter?” she mumbled, joint already in her mouth. Ancom nodded and she knelt down, letting them light the surprisingly well-made hemp cigarette; Nazi’s eyes got caught on their dirty, but mesmerizing fingers, stuffed into black fingerless gloves and with the nail polish still horribly chipped. Seeing that she was already down there, Nazi plopped onto the floor, wincing as her thighs touched the cold, wet grass. She rearranged her dress so that she was sitting on it; it was going to be ruined by the end of this. Taking a long drag of the cigarette, she convinced herself that the weed would make her stop caring.

“I guess,” Ancom began, making themselves smaller to get further away from Nazi, now sitting opposite of them, “your words are just worse because,” they sneezed and it was adorable and Nazi had to swallow at the thought, “we come from an oppressive system like what you propose. So, like, old structures are still there that reinforce your shit.”

Nazi blew out smoke to the side. “You sound like Commie.”

Ancom crossed their arms behind their pulled up legs. “Maybe I’m just not a fan of your bullshit ideas specifically targeting _me_.”

Nazi had to frown. She looked downstream, the river’s pretty sparkling gone with the clouds passing in front of the moon. Another deep inhale from the joint.

“That’s just the thing,” she said, trailing off for a moment. Her eyes watered, but only shortly. “I- alright, I get why that would bother you, specifically.” She sighed, feeling Ancom’s heavy glare on her. “But I-, think back to Ancap’s shitty guards. They bothered you, didn’t they? A lot. And I really hated seeing that.” She closed her eyes. “I think you’re just delusional. You just haven’t seen the world as it is, and once you do, you’ll...you’ll become like me.”

She waited with baited breath. Wind brushed through their cold, dark corner and Nazi shivered.

“That’s-”

Nazi turned to look at Ancom.

“Such bullshit.”

“What?”

“Look who you’re talking to!” Ancom unfolded their arms, stretching them out between them to reveal their dark skin. “ _You’re_ delusional! If the world was truly as you see it, why would I even exist? Oh wait, right, I’m also a just filthy degenerate that needs to be purged, I forgot,” they scowled, quickly hiding their arms under their jacket again.

Nazi looked at them, biting her lip.

“I think,” she looked down at Ancom’s disgustingly clunky sneakers, “I want you to convince me. That I’m wrong. Because you could. You’re right. You do exist and- you’re not like the guards.”

Another gust of cold, icy wind, prompting Ancom to lean further into their nook, away from Nazi.

“It’s not my job to make you a better person.”

Nazi didn’t answer. The leaves rustled in the wind picking up and she was getting _really_ cold; she heard light prattling and soon, a weak drizzle upset the river’s surface.

“I used to try to convince people,” Ancom’s voice was a low murmur. Nazi turned towards them, but they didn’t meet her eyes. “My family. They were...not that bad according to most people, probably. But they nearly suffocated me.”

Nazi held out her beer bottle; the smaller person took it, taking a sip before handing it back.

“They said...believed that since we’re immigrants we can’t afford to make waves. They believed that if we acted like model, conservative citizens the world would accept us.”

Nazi watched, fascinated as the moon coming forth behind the clouds illuminated Ancom’s face, rough, dirty, scruffy, but somehow still delicate.

“They hated it when I came out as gay. Really, really hated it.”

“Did they throw you out?” Nazi asked quietly. She grimaced when she remembered the first time she had been outspoken about her views and her family so distraught that she could barely breathe; she hadn’t been thrown out, but ran away, desperately fleeing the disappointment. She slept on a park bench that night, too proud to sneak back into her room.

Ancom shook their head. “It wasn’t like that. I, I had brought my girlfriend home and I loved her and thought she was wonderful and interesting and I was so...frustrated that they weren’t overjoyed to meet her, but just gave me a serious talking to that I should hide her and get over it sooner rather than later.”

Maybe if Nazi had just gone back home that night, crumbled under the pressure and the fear of the darkness of the park, she would’ve been able to fix things. She wouldn’t have awoken the next day with back pain, a fever and barely any sleep, causing her to be even more agitated and easily irritable than she had been the evening prior. The way she had felt, resentful of her family essentially forcing her do this – of course she had doubled down.

“I was so disappointed. My parents always gave me the feeling I was okay and that they were okay, but it was all total horseshit. They were only nice and freedom loving as long as I stayed within the lines.”

The rain stopped. It hadn’t gone on for very long; at least Nazi wasn’t going to get wet on the way home.

“I couldn’t believe it, so I tried again and again, came out as this and as that, and they kept telling me to keep things secret and grow out of them.” Ancom put their head on their knees. “They never threw me out. I ran away. I couldn’t stand them constantly giving me the feeling that I was wrong just because the status quo said so.”

Nazi nodded thoughtfully. “I know what that’s like-”

“Don’t compare us,” Ancom cut in. “Please.”

Nazi swallowed. “Not like that. Okay, maybe a little, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

Ancom squinted at her as she began toying with the grass.

“When I was young, I was really into politics. I started reading the news and my- my dad would gift me books, really boring ones, and then he’d just tell me the summary of what was in them.”

Ancom reached out for her bottle again and she handed it to them.

“I tried to get my younger sister into it, but she only ever talked about boys. When my mother began panicking about me going through puberty, she constantly told us to stay away from boys and think about Jesus. So my sister began talking about Jesus instead. And it was _so_ boring.”

“Did you, like, do stuff? With boys?” Ancom took a big gulp from the bottle.

Nazi shook her head. “Not during my time in school. I was told not to, so I didn’t. My sister did, but she wasn’t found out. But I didn’t care about any of that, I just wanted to, you know, ‘raise’ her into someone informed, but she just had no interest.”

She noticed Ancom shivering too now. Taking care not to startle them, Nazi shifted closer, crawling into the nook with them as she mumbled something about sharing body heat. Ancom seemed to buy it, or maybe they were just sick of facing the wind alone as well.

“Eventually, my mother began to panic _again_ because I showed no interest in boys at all, even though I was just following her orders. She began lecturing us on how good and important being a mother and housewife was and often blamed my interest in politics for me not dating more; she alternated rather rapidly between it being a distraction for me and a deterrent for boys,” she laughed. “But I only barely listened. I wasn’t worried. I was always the prettier sister, I knew I would get a guy, or at least that’s what I thought,” she grinned tightly; how wrong she had been. “And my father still talked to me about the stuff I was actually curious about,” she examined her own feet; dear Lord her shoes were dirty. “Sometimes I wonder whether he also didn’t have anyone else to talk about politics to. My mother certainly wasn’t a candidate.”

Ancom leaned their head against her shoulder. “And then he died, didn’t he.”

Nazi sighed deeply, wrapping her arm around Ancom. “Then he died. And I got really, really angry. Hard to believe these days, but when I was young, I was actually calm and collected; my sister often called me a robot when I told her that she was being irrational.”

Ancom was pressed up right to her, too many layers of clothing between them to properly feel their shape, but somehow, it was still beautiful. Just sitting with them, telling them about things she hadn’t really told anyone else.

“I got into a lot of fights; I wasn’t really violent, but I’d piss people off until they attacked me. I called the one black girl in class a low IQ monkey over and over again until she beat the shit out of me. I’m- I’m not that strong, so I usually lost my fights.”

She tried to curl in on herself, but was hindered by Ancom’s body, slowly warming up next to her, being in the way. She only succeeded in pulling them closer.

“My mother sent me to a therapist. She was a complete crook, though and just siphoned money out of a one-parent household; the only thing I learned was to run off and be alone when it got too overwhelming, and I only learned that because I had to run away from her pretty often. She refused to attack me no matter how often I called her a ki-”

“Don’t.”

Nazi swallowed down the word, pressing her lips together to keep it from escaping.

“Yeah. Well. I hid on her toilet pretty often and started leaving her nasty little notes, under the sink, on the back of the soap bottle, on the toilet paper. That- that actually helped.”

“Maybe,” Ancom righted themselves, face coming up right next to Nazi’s. She forced herself not to look. “Could you maybe be on the spectrum? That sounds like replacement beha-”

“What is it with you and diagnosing people with mental illnesses they don’t have?” Nazi snapped, retracting her arm.

“I don’t do that,” Ancom defended.

“Ancap told me about how you met,” Nazi sneered. “The first fucking thing you did was assume she was schizophrenic.”

“She was being really weird and-”

“You’re being an asshole!” she interrupted, trying and failing to extract herself from the embrace they had found themselves in. “It’s extremely insulting when I try to tell you about events that were really incisive for me and your first instinct is to tell me I have a cognitive disability! You can’t just call everyone you disagree with a retard!” A deep scowl brunt itself onto her face, an overly familiar sensation; she hated it.

“Don’t use that word,” Ancom mumbled, grimacing.

“Don’t call me fucking autistic!”

They sat in the cramped nook, leaning away from each other as far as they could. Nazi glared at the river, fists clenched around her arm; her heart beat loudly and she was torn between righteous anger and just a horribly gnawing feeling of hurt. She shouldn’t have said anything. Why had she even come here.

“Whatever,” she muttered, struggling to get up; the two of them were still hopelessly entangled and her feet and legs had gone numb. “I honestly just came to make sure you won’t tell Commie about- about that one time. We didn’t even do anything and I don’t want to get killed over it.”

She registered Ancom’s flinching, but chose to ignore it as she dusted off her dress.

“So it _was_ nothing. Just random,” Ancom’s weepy voice was nearly drowned out by the rushing of the river, slightly louder since after the rain.

Nazi shrugged. “Just trying to finish the sextet. Now only Ancap and Commie have to have sex, then we did it,” she laughed derisively, throwing out her arms theatrically. “Most degenerate flat in the house.”

Ancom furrowed their brows up at her and Nazi pretended not to see the tears in their eyes. Too late to bite her tongue now.

“You had..,” they trailed off.

“I paid Ancap once for stress relief, yeah,” she crossed her arms, defiant. No way Ancom could judge her for that.

“And you and Commie?”

 _S_ _hit_.

Right.

That.

“We were drunk,” she stated, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ancom’s incredulous look shifted from disgusted to shocked to hurt. Nazi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, heavily debating whether or not she should leave now, before it was too late.

“When?” Ancom bared their teeth, gleaming white and wolfish, pulling Nazi in with their anger; Nazi loved it when others were angry.

“First week, I think.”

Ancom scoffed, shaking their head. They also got to their feet.

“So, after all her fucking talk and sulking over Ancap ‘sullying’ me, _she_ actually slept with _you_?” they spat, gesticulating at Nazi.

“You can sound a little less disgusted by it.”

Ancom ignored her. “Seriously? Do you know how often I had to listen to her rage and wail about how Ancap tainted me with her money-dirty hands and I had to apologize just to make her shut up about it, and she has sex with _you_? Of all people? The worst person we collectively know, the one person constantly scheming to _genuinely_ harm me?” Their voice was shrill, ringing uncomfortably in Nazi’s ears as the volume picked up. She grimaced, wanting to leave, run away, but her feet were glued to the floor.

“How could she do that to me? What a fucking hypocrite, slut shaming me when she slept with someone like you! That’s _disgusting_!”

“Stop,” Nazi said, finally regaining her senses and taking a step back. "Stop saying that. I’m _not_ disgusting. Stop. Just stop.”

Ancom snapped out of their furious rant, apologetic eyes looking straight into Nazi’s reddening ones.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Commie’s a piece of shit hypocrite, but just because you hate me the most doesn’t mean everyone has to, some people like me and they’re allowed to do that,” her babbling was becoming less and less coherent; she tried to focus her thoughts, but she was so _cold_ and drunk and high and _why_ had she screwed things up for herself so badly? It was her own fucking fault Ancom hated her so much that they found her _disgusting_. She felt dizzy.

“Nazi, I,” Ancom took a step towards her, reaching out for her, but Nazi jerked away from the attempted touch, jumping back-

Into nothing.

Her feet treaded air as she realized she had fallen down the hill and straight into the freezing cold water of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus almighty, this chapter/scene keeps getting longer and longer - had to chop it up again to leave you hanging on Authright getting wet (haha)
> 
> It's a really interesting challenge to write characters who are supposed to be wrong, sympathetic, drunk, and consistent at the same time - hope it worked out at least a little bit! 
> 
> (Went back and fixed a minor-ish continuity error about when exactly Authright moved out, just fyi!)


	25. Chapter 25

The river wasn’t deep at all; Nazi actually hurt her left hand as she braced it against the impact, her head whipping onto the stones beneath. She yelled more in surprise than pain, quickly numbed by the cold. Sprawling in the riverbed, she propped herself up on her elbow, reaching for her head; it was wet, but she couldn’t tell if it was water or blood, disoriented still.

For a moment she heard nothing but the white noise of the river, then Ancom’s screechy voice calling out to her, coming closer. She looked up, seeing her former roommate clumsily shuffling down the hillside she had just tumbled down, careful not to fall into the water themselves.

“Nazi? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” they asked, looking for something to stabilize themselves on as they held out their hand to her.

Nazi blankly looked at it. She squeezed her eyes shut as a strong surge of pain coursed through her head, opening them once it was over. She ignored the hand, instead getting up herself, even if painfully slowly; her legs felt wobbly on top of being stiff and numb, and her heels were not made for use in riverbeds with all the irregular pebbles lining them.

“Put that away,” she motioned vaguely at Ancom’s outstretched hand, “I’m just going to pull you down too if I take it.”

It took a perceived eternity, but Nazi eventually managed to get out of the river; more of a creek really, with how ankle-deep it had turned out. Why was this ‘river’ so goddamn fucking shallow anyways? How long hadn’t it rained? She would’ve much preferred to just splash into the water and have the current drag her under and away to falling six feet down and practically landing on stone.

Ancom was barraging her with questions of how she felt and whether her head hurt – _of course it hurts you fucking idiot_ – and whether anything was broken and if she was okay and whatever else they could think of. Nazi waved them off, beginning to assure them she was fine right before teetering over; Ancom caught her, keeping both of them upright with some difficulty.

“We need to get you warm ASAP,” Ancom stated, shouldering her arm.

Nazi shook her head. Her vision was clearing up, the stars that had blocked it retreating. “I just hit my head, it’s okay. But yeah, I’d like to get out of these wet clothes,” she mumbled, letting Ancom support her. She didn’t really need it, only her hand had been hurt, but Ancom was warm and soft and their hand clasping around her rib cage felt so _good_.

They approached the apartment building, Ancom’s constant worried questions having become background noise; the foyer up ahead was lit and there seemed to be some arguing going on.

“We can’t go in there,” Nazi said, worn and tired after having walked all this way cold and wet. Her arm hurt like a bitch, too. Maybe Ancom knew how to hotwire cars, then they could steal Ancap’s to get...somewhere.

“Don’t worry about it,” they squeezed her for comfort before dragging her behind the building to the parking spots. Surprisingly, they didn’t swerve to the nearest car to hijack it, but instead went for what looked vaguely like an industry shaft door. It turned out to be a regular door leading right into the building’s stairwell.

Nazi whistled in appreciation. “Neat trick.”

“Ancap thinks she’s being stealthy when she builds her secret escapes, but she’s not.”

Nazi nodded.

“I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea to go to our apartment if I’m honest,” she said as they ascended.

“We won’t.”

They arrived at the top floor and Nazi really regretted not living lower down as she suppressed her pathetic wheezing. Ancom stole a look into the corridor before declaring it clear and pulling Nazi into the wackies’ flat.

“Here? Really?” Nazi complained under her breath.

Ancom ignored her as they scurried forward to the room with the LEDs. Nazi leaned back against the door, directing her eyes at the ceiling. She was so fucking cold.

Sighing, she reached for the back of her dress; she sputtered, frantically searching her back and hips when her hands came up empty. Where was her fucking pistol?

She squeezed her eyes shut when the realization hit her.

_You probably lost it in the river._

Well, at least she didn’t have to hide it now. And hey, it could’ve also gone off as she fell into the water, that would have been way worse.

Ancom returned, Posadist in tow. “We can stay for now; they also have a spare broom closet,” they smiled sheepishly, her small friend grinning at them. “And we can use their bathroom!”

“Great. I really want to get out of these clothes now,” Nazi hadn’t the patience to be polite.

“Right,” Ancom turned towards Posadist to say something, but she waved them off.

“Already on it, I’m sure Anarcho-monarchy wants to break out the old lockpicking set anyways,” she looked at Nazi, lips pursed in a mischievous smile.

“My room’s the second door on the left,” she stated, walking after Ancom towards the bathroom. “Sorry about your floor,” she said in passing, pointing at the trail of water she left behind.

The moment Nazi entered the bathroom, somehow littered with much less crap than theirs, she pulled off the freezing clothes, Ancom getting themselves busy by turning on the shower. She jumped in before she could feel embarrassed about being naked around Ancom, sinking to the bottom of the stall and reveling in the hot stream. She sighed contentedly, combing her hair back as her skin first began to prickle before she finally regained feelings in her limbs. She pulled her knees up to her chest as she leaned against the tiled wall, washing away the cold and the pain.

“How is this bathroom cleaner than ours,” she more stated than asked, eyes closed.

She heard Ancom giggle. “Anprim doesn’t use the bathroom at all because she thinks it’s ‘unnatural’,” they explained, sitting Indian style as they hunched over on the floor. “And Posadist and Anarcho-monarchy don’t have a lot of products. The only one who really uses it is Homonationalist, I think, and she’s even more orderly than you.”

“Oh God, lock the door please,” Nazi groaned, sitting up slightly; her posture made sure she was mostly covered. She opened her eyes a sliver to look at Ancom. “I totally forgot she lives here. Wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

Ancom laughed, taking off their beanie and running a hand through their dirty hair. “Yeah, she’s obsessed with you, dude. She tried to ask me about you every single time I came over. And she kept referring to me as ‘it’ and I wasn’t even offended because I’m not entirely sure that she doesn’t refer to _everyone_ as ‘it’. Except you, of course.”

Nazi threw them a worn grin. Ancom ran their hand through their hair again, rubbing the grime they had amassed between their fingers. They looked so out of place in the pristine bathroom with their unkempt black hair and dirt-stained dark skin. They sneezed, a shiver running through them.

“Are you also cold?” Nazi asked, keeping her tone neutral.

“I sat under that bridge for a while.”

“Lucky you had a jacket.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Nazi focused on Ancom’s full lips as they began nervously biting them.

“If you turn around for a second, I’ll come out and you can warm up in here as well,” she suggested.

Ancom opened and closed their mouth a few times before settling on wordlessly swiveling in their seat. Nazi smirked to herself, washing her face one last time – the water was _really_ nice. She stepped out of the basin without turning the shower off, standing right next to Ancom in the cramped bathroom. Looking around for a moment, she was slightly startled when Ancom held up a towel without looking at her. She took it, wrapping herself in it.

She sat down on the bathroom mat next to Ancom, brushing her wet hair out of her face. Their shoulders practically touched and Nazi was tempted to lean in further and push Ancom down to the bathroom floor, kiss them and ravage them-

She blinked, fingers clenching when the real-life consequences of that course of action flashed across her vision. Another slap in the face and the smaller person probably running off.

“Your turn,” she said, watching as Ancom stood up, clumsily peeling themselves out of their clothes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ancom whispered, flushing.

“I thought your lot was liberal with nudity?”

“N- Not around you,” Ancom flustered. Nazi stared at the cheap white door as they stepped into the shower, deliciously sighing as they relaxed in the warm water. Nazi closed her eyes, listening to the soft noises coming from the shower; Ancom was very bad at being quiet. They just had to sigh and murmur and mewl while they stood right behind her, naked.

Nazi laid her head down on her knees, watching a droplet slowly trail down her lower arm. She still had traces of that bruise that piece of shit guard had given her, but at least it had gotten much paler, the blackish purple having turned more into green and the green into yellow. Her rosy skin was all too prone to bruising; she had learned that in the rougher years of her youth.

“Hey, Nazi?” Ancom asked, voice hard to hear over the rush of the shower.

She perked up, nearly turning around before she remembered she shouldn’t. “Yeah?”

“I,” she heard them also sit down in the shower basin, “I’m sorry about what I said before.”

A sad chuckle escaped her. “I’m sorry about trying to purge you.” She ran a tired hand through her still very wet hair.

“Yeah. That wasn’t very nice, either.” Ancom sounded thoughtful. Nazi wanted nothing more than to look at them right now.

“What are we going to do now?” they asked.

“Team Extreme is going to try to dig up dirt on Neoliberal, or fabricate it if she doesn’t have any of her own. Then-”

“No, not that,” Ancom interrupted, very, very quiet. “You and I. And,” they sighed, “and Commie.”

“Ancom can- can I turn around? Or turn off the water? I can barely hear you.”

Shifting, weak splashing. The shower turned off and Nazi felt the presence of Ancom’s body hovering near her as they reached for a towel.

“Okay.”

Nazi turned around, really slowly, eyes fixed at the floor. When she was facing Ancom, her eyes trailed up to look at them. They were curled in on themselves as she had been before, hiding themselves behind their lean legs and the towel wrapped around their shoulders.

She smiled, trying to make things less awkward. “Where’s the shower curtain, anyways?”

“Posadist stole it for her weird art project.”

“Ah. And the others don’t mind?”

“Homonationalist is an exhibitionist and Anarcho-monarchy considers the royal body to be inerrable or something. I didn’t really get it.”

“Remind me again why you hang out here so often?”

“I like Posadist.”

“She’s creepy.”

“She’s an artist.”

“Ah.”

They sat in silence for a while, only the light dripping of the faucet disturbing the quiet room.

“I don’t really know, Ancom,” Nazi began, voice low. “I’m just really fucking tired and my head hurts. I want to go to bed.”

“Well, you can go to your room if you want. You don’t have to stay here with me.” Their voice was somewhere between understanding and insolent and Nazi had to smile.

“No, I can’t,” she looked up, flashing her former roommate a mischievous grin. “I broke one of the newcomer’s fingers. Probably shouldn’t be seen right now.”

Ancom laughed under their breath. “I thought you weren’t particularly violent?”

“In school I wasn’t. Now is a totally different pair of shoes.”

They laughed harder now, clasping a hand over their mouth. “We’ve got to be quiet if we don’t want to be found,” they said conspiratorially. “Trust me, I have a lot of experience being a fugitive.”

Nazi nodded exaggeratedly. “Let’s get to our new broom closet then,” she said, getting to her feet with some difficulty. Ancom immediately shot up, holding out their hands in concern.

“Don’t get up so quickly, you might have a concussion or something.”

“I don’t have a concussion. Don’t worry, I’ve gotten hit in the head pretty often.”

“That explains a lot,” Ancom joked, insisting on supporting her as they walked over to the room Posadist had prepared for them. The rest of the apartment was dark, its tenants asleep as per the new ‘nighttime routine policy’ Neoliberal had installed. Even things Nazi technically wanted seemed like awful ideas when _she_ did them.

They stepped into the room and turned on the lights. Ancom had to gasp.

Posadist had not only taken everything from Nazi’s closet that could even vaguely work as a pajama, but she had also taken her sheets, creating a cute little nest in the corner of the room with fluffed up pillows and everything. She had also wisely placed two cups of water next to the nest with a package of aspirin by their side, as well as a small pack of chips.

While Ancom happily slipped into one of the makeshift pajamas, Nazi walked further into the room, picking up a note lovingly placed on the pillows.

_To ally enemies, you need to marry them. Every extreme is on the same team.  
\- Anarcho-monarchy _

_You have a lot of blankets! Very jealous!  
\- Posadist _

Nazi scrunched her brows at the note; so the other two had gotten to the wackies in the meantime. Neat. She turned around, nearly dropping the note.

“Jesus, Ancom,” she put a hand in front of her mouth, “at least pretend like you fill out my clothes.”

Ancom stood there, sweatpants limply hanging off of them and t-shirt comically large. Nazi wasn’t _that_ tall. They looked scarily cute and Nazi was in no state to admit it.

“Leave me alone,” they pouted, moving out of the way as Nazi walked over to the pile of clothes, getting into her dark blue velvet pajamas herself. “Your clothes are huge. And why do you have so many blankets? Or are these Posadist’s?”

“I like it when they are heavy,” she mumbled.

Ancom turned around.

“Don’t say it.”

They shrugged, snuggling into the nest.

“What’s that you got there?” they asked, hands behind their head.

Turning off the lights, Nazi walked over as well, handing them the scrap paper. “Just a really weird note. Didn’t expect anything else, really,” she said as she also got under the covers. Ancom raised their brows before tossing the note away and more on instinct than anything else cuddled up to Nazi.

“Oh,” they inched away again, “sorry.”

Nazi tensed up. “No problem. It- it’s pretty cold still. And not very spacious.” It really wasn’t; the seven inches between them were more awkward than anything else.

They stared at the ceiling in silence. The floor was still pretty hard, even with a layer of blankets between it and their bodies. So that’s what Ancom had slept like in the beginning. How uncomfortable.

“Nazi.” Their voice was quiet.

“Yeah,” she whispered back.

“I’m confused.”

Nazi took a deep breath. She turned to her side; her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, showing her more and more of Ancom’s face smushed into the pillow.

“Are you really disgusted with me?”

She wanted to throw up. The feeling had been gone, but now it was back in full force; the usual nausea she felt when something was wrong.

“Only your ideas. And only some of them.”

Nazi felt like crying. She considered for a moment to turn away and just go to sleep, end this tragic day while she still could.

Instead, she leaned forward, capturing Ancom’s lips in her own, just as fervent as last time, but slightly less violent. They made a small noise and it was enough for Nazi to break out into tears as they kissed; she pressed herself closer, craving Ancom’s warmth, and rolled on top of them, mindful to keep the blankets on, and finally, finally clasped their hand in her own. Ancom tried to lean away from her, but they could only press their head so far into the pillow. Nazi followed the motion, unwilling to give up the kiss, the connection, as she tried to repress the desperate sobbing.

Ancom’s free hand came up to push her away and it panicked her; she didn’t want to be pushed, she wanted to get even closer, tighter – the pushing got more vehement and she released Ancom, angling down her head to rest her forehead on their chest as tears silently ran down her face.

“Why are you crying?” Ancom asked into the dark, hand coming up to softly pet her head.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t really have a proper reason; her shitty life and the shitty decisions she had made throughout its course felt like they were crashing in on her right in this moment, burying her under them.

“It’s okay,” Ancom whispered when she didn’t respond. “It’ll- it’ll get better.”

They went back to stroking her soft hair and Nazi continued slightly shivering as silent hiccups wracked her. She eventually calmed down and the embarrassment that overcame her burnt; she felt herself flush all over, a distinct desire to run away shooting through her.

She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Ancom, eyes clearly also reddened and lips still swollen from before. They were so, so pretty, and not in spite of being so scruffy and disheveled but _because_ of it. Nazi wanted to sink her teeth into their smooth skin, run her fingernails along it and hear those sweet whimpers she had been tortured with over the past weeks.

She ran a gentle hand along the elegant line of their neck, more feeling than seeing it and felt Ancom tremble underneath her.

“I really, really,” her voice was breathy and her fingers curled so that not their tips, but her nails were grazing Ancom’s throat, “want to fuck you.”

Ancom tried to jerk their head up, but Nazi just pressed down her hand, pushing them back into the pillows.

“I think,” she slowly climbed off of them, hand guiding them to crawl on top of her instead; she was surprised and ecstatic to feel Ancom following the motion, “you want that to happen, too.”

Ancom’s breath hitched when she pulled them closer by the small of their back; she was still moving torturously slowly, a part of her painfully aware Ancom might run away from her after all, even when they were already sitting on her lap and she felt their heat pressed right up to her.

“Do you?” she asked, careful; she swallowed at her voice cracking.

At first, a surge of disappointment and a pang of guilt shot through her when she didn’t hear an answer. Then she realized Ancom had instead nodded fervently, unable to speak.

She dragged them towards her, burying their high-pitched cries and whimpers in their kiss; was this finally it? After all the failed attempts and what felt like a thousand nights of dreaming about it, was this really happening?

She couldn’t believe it, heart racing as both her hands tightly gripped the back of Ancom’s head. They were actually straddling her, legs spread and her tongue invading their mouth and those cursed moans were for _her_ , were _because_ of her. They squeaked and squealed as her hands sharply squeezed their thighs, teeth busy with their neck. One of her hands came back up, curling around their neck and squeezed.

“You have to stay quiet,” she said, and while it was supposed to be a command, her anxiety shone through, the piercing fear of getting caught and the moment being destroyed forever upsetting her voice.

Ancom nodded, mewls quieter, but just as delicious.

“Ancap complained that you were a pillow princess,” she muttered hotly into their ear; they flinched much more harshly than she expected, and she quickly moved to run a soothing hand across their back, trailing uncharacteristically soft kisses along their collarbone. “Let’s change that,” she leered up at them, pushing them off her lap and further down, under the blankets.

“I’m sure you know what to do,” she said smugly, lifting her legs to lay them on their shoulders, hand traveling down to fist their hair.

It was finally, finally happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy some degeneracy owo 
> 
> Even if it's very PG degeneracy
> 
> (also the heavy blankets thing is a reference to ppl on the spectrum often enjoying weighted blankets. honestly who doesn't tho)


	26. Chapter 26

Nazi sat on the back porch, concentrated on tacking the dark gray fabric clutched in her hands. She barely noticed her sister and two boys from church running up to the backyard from behind her, nearly pricking herself with the needle as they brushed past.

“What’re you working on, then?” the taller of the two boys slowed, leaning down as the younger siblings darted off into the yard. He was friendly, a sturdy looking dirty blonde fellow with dull eyes. She would know to tell apart those eyes later, but not yet, not when she was still in middle school.

“Taking in the sides here. The uniform was too large for me; they only have it in men’s sizes,” she explained dryly, continuing her work.

“Don’t be weird,” her sister called as she and the younger boy approached them. The boy, slightly more disheveled than he had been originally, gave her a confused look. “She likes uniforms. Because she wants to dress like a _boy_ ,” her sister taunted.

“No, I don’t. That’s why I tailor them.”

“Yeah, well, you suck at it.”

“I won’t in a few years,” Nazi quipped.

“Tell yourself that. Come on guys, let’s go do something fun,” she turned to leave.

The sturdy boy looked down at Nazi, sitting on the porch, unmoving.

“You also coming?”

“She doesn’t like fun,” her sister sneered back, beckoning the boy to follow her.

As they left, Nazi packed up her things to machine sow the tacks she had made. Maybe she wouldn’t ruin the expensive thing this time around.

Her eyes fluttered open; her back hurt like shit and the air was stuffy and stale. She was cold, though something was radiating warmth next to her. And her head hurt like hell.

She squeezed her eyes shut again; it was dark where she was, but the darkness was as stale as the air, tinted yellow somehow. Nothing like the deep blue darkness of the night.

It was dusty and she had to cough, turning over to bury her head in the pillows; her arm wrapped around something slim and soft, though not as soft as the bedding. The body shifted and purred, crawling closer to her, and heat pooled in her stomach as she blindly ran her hands across the lovely skin, fingertips grazing over small, but pronounced scratches marring it; she could feel the deep cuts on her own left hand teasing the flesh. Soft mewling as she pushed herself even closer, trapping the body between her and the wall, her legs entangling with theirs under the soft covers.

Commotion outside. Eyes opening a sliver, she caught herself drooling at the dark bite marks and bruises decorating Ancom’s neck and shoulders; her fingers moved lower out of their own accord as the quiet gasping filled her ears. Her other hand came up and touched the soft lips, pushing until they were given entry, slicking themselves up, her own breathing turning shallow.

The door was thrown open.

“There you are. We’ve been looking for you all over,” Ancap’s grating croak assaulted her ears. The light from outside was blinding and she suddenly understood her roommates fondness of sunglasses.

She sat up rapidly, good hand coming up to grasp at her forehead as pain shot through it. She felt the wetness on her fingers being spread across her head, quickly retracting them and wiping the saliva on the pillows.

“Nice tits. Shame I didn’t get to see them for our session,” Ancap grinned, but it was humorless. Ancom also propped themselves up on their elbows, rubbing their eyes. “Great, you’re here as well! And you seem to get along now, too. Awesome. Get dressed, we have a lot to talk about.” She stepped out, closing the door and audibly leaning against it.

Nazi groaned into her bruised palm, looking at it with vague disgust. She had cut herself on a stone, and while she had washed off the dirt in the shower, she hadn’t bandaged it and now it looked like it would leave an ugly scar. Maybe she could start wearing gloves on dates.

“Morning,” Ancom mumbled next to her, hiding their body under the blankets.

She looked over, frowning; her hand began throbbing now that she remembered it. “Yeah, you too.” She leaned over the side of their nest, dropping the aspirin into the waters and handing one to Ancom. As they drank, she also fished out their pajamas, clumsily getting into her own.

“ _I’m waiting out here,_ ” Ancap called in, tapping her foot.

“Fuck off, capitalist,” Nazi grumbled, earning a stifled giggle from Ancom. They downed their aspirin, crawling across her lap to set the glass down on the floor. They hesitated for a moment as they were spread over her lap, considering.

“Nazi?” they muttered.

Nazi hummed in response, drinking in the mouthwatering sight of Ancom’s bare back.

“Can we-”

The door opened again, Ancap leaning in once more. “Hurry up, there’s a lot to do.”

Ancom nodded and they got dressed.

They sat in their kitchen. Nazi and Ancom had taken their places in opposite corners of the room, refusing to look at or even so much as acknowledge each other, while Commie constantly threw Ancom worried glaces; they had their bandanna tied around their neck, claiming they were getting a cold from hanging out outside so much.

Ancap couldn’t care less about the pathetic love triangle forming around her. She just wanted her fucking house back.

She had tried to calmly and efficiently explain to the two runaways that things had tensed up since yesterday; of course, that was because Nazi had decided it would be a great idea to assault one of the new tenants, and had chosen Neoliberal’s bestie of all people.

“I know you got issues, Nazi, but you can’t physically assault randos you don’t like. Makes us look bad and suspicious and now they’re installing cameras in _all_ the hallways. I’m telling you, by evening, our piece of shit Alexa will inform us that they’ll also be installing cameras in the apartments,” Ancap ranted, arms crossed. Nazi only sulked, not meeting her eyes.

“I can disable the recording software,” Commie said after a moment, crossing her legs and looking up at Ancap. “If your cousin unlocks the door to the security room, I can put a small scrambler program on it. It won’t last forever, but maybe it gives us a few days before they repair it.”

Ancap shook her head. “Neoliberal’s bestie is a programmer. She’ll fix it immediately.”

“Not with her broken fingers,” Nazi grinned at her, saying something for the first time during their meeting.

“True,” Ancap snapped finger guns at the blonde girl. She turned back to Commie. “Do it. I got a couple burner flash drives in my room, you can take one. My cousin will unlock the security room, and can Ancom maybe plug it in?” She was creating the plan as she talked; it was really strenuous. She should set Ancom up to get her some cocaine. “You’re tall and conspicuous and live here. Ancom just looks like a hobo trying to steal shit,” she explained.

“Hey!” That finally got them to react. “Also, what security room? I thought they were finally gone.”

Ancap laughed derisively. “There are fewer and they work as porters, mostly, but Neo also likes her fists for hire. She’s worried about homeless people wandering in, which is what she and her crew believe is what happened that time you tried to burn my property down.”

Ancom frowned, crossing their arms as well. Ancap just gave them another pointed look.

“I can make the program so that Anarki- Ancom can easily install it. Just plug in and let it run by itself.”

“Neat. Ancom, you up for it?”

“Sure,” they shrugged. “But that’ll just get rid of the cameras. What are we doing to get rid of _her_?”

Ancap sighed heavily. “Libertarian is looking for loopholes in the housing dedication of the county, and I’m considering siccing a private investigator on her. But honestly, I’ve started looking into her, and she uses her real name for _everything_. And for someone who is such an open book online, she has surprisingly little to be found.” She felt dizzy for a moment, rubbing her temples. “I _wish_ anything I’ve ever done online was this squeaky clean,” she added, muttering.

“What do you think you’ll find?” Nazi lifted a brow.

“Maybe she said ni-,” her eyes darted to Ancom, “the n-word at some point, or something along those lines. That gets rid of rising youngsters pretty quickly.”Another wave of dizziness.

“I don’t think that would work,” Nazi threw in.

“Best we got right now, okay?” Ancap snapped. Her head hurt. “And trust me, official departments don’t like working with people who make them look like assholes if they can avoid it. I dropped one fag-, I mean f-word during a meeting in my home county once and they’ve refused to talk to me ever since,” she mumbled.

“Not the same thing, but sure.” Nazi uncrossed her arms. “So, what about the programmer girl?”

“The one who’s fingers you broke?” Ancap felt the counter digging into her spine; she was getting dizzy _again_. She really needed to eat something. She leaned over to the faucet to drink some water to tide her over. “I think she wants damages and an apology note.”

Nazi swallowed. “How much in damages?”

“I don’t know,” Ancap ground out. She really didn’t feel good, but they had to finish discussing. “I think it was like, eight hundred bucks or something to settle this without a court.”

“Jesus Christ, Ancap! Couldn’t you have gotten it a bit lower? I can’t fucking afford that,” Nazi exclaimed, frustrated.

Ancap wanted to say something snide about a loan, but her legs wouldn’t have it. She keeled over, caught before collapsing on the floor by Commie quickly jumping up to support her.

“Are you okay?” Ancom asked, though she barely heard them.

She shook her head, embarrassed by how much weight she had to put on Commie to keep upright. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just gotta eat. You figure out your money shit yourself, I’ll conference with Libertarian and look into getting a PI-”

“Lie down,” Commie’s low voice ordered, “this is ridiculous. We can handle this for now, you need to sleep. You nearly fainted twice since yesterday,” Her tone was reprimanding; Ancom recognized it, feeling ill.

Nazi and Ancom watched as Commie dropped Ancap off at her bed. They shot each other a look, flush suddenly overcoming them. They averted their eyes.

Commie returned. “I shall be working on the program now. It should be done in the evening.”

Nazi whistled. “That’s quick.”

“I’ve done it more than once.”

“Ah. So we install it tonight?” Nazi followed Commie out of the kitchen, leaving Ancom behind.

They entered Commie’s room, the tall brunette immediately sitting down at her desk. “Yes. You could help by distracting whoever might come down into the foyer; the security room is not easy to look into, but I assume Ancap’s cousin will take a few seconds to lockpick the door.”

“Why is Ancom installing the stick actually, and not Anarcho-monarchy?” Nazi asked, scrunching her brows as she watched Commie type away.

“Ancap doesn’t like asking her cousin for favors; it seems to be unclear whether those favors may come back to haunt her,” Commie explained, focused on the screen.

Nazi nodded, awkwardly hovering by her. Maybe she should get it over with now. Just tell her.

“You and Ancap have been getting along?” she asked innocently.

Commie shot her a look, then stared back her weird text document. “Ancap is very efficient. So am I.”

“Yeah,” Nazi shifted the weight from one foot to the other. “I guess you two are also the ones with the useful degrees here, huh.”

Economics and constructional engineering versus political science and fuck all. Nazi frowned.

Commie raised her brows at her. “If that’s how you’d like to view it, sure.”

Nazi stayed for a few more moments, trying to gather her courage. Get it over with. Maybe Commie wouldn’t kill her because she thought she still needed Nazi.

She bolted, like the coward that she was.

Returning to the kitchen, she found Ancom still rooted in the same place they had stood in before. She poured herself a glass of water, trying not to look at them. Ancom silently snuck over, trying to touch her sides; Nazi evaded them, winding out of reach and spilling a bit of water on the floor.

“ _Don’t_ do that,” she hissed, “Commie is _right_ down the hall!”

Ancom looked awfully dejected. “I was just trying to tap your shoulder.”

“Doesn’t matter! Not now, not _here_.”

“Alright, alright. Jesus,” Ancom crossed their arms. “So I guess I’m not allowed to tell her either?”

“Of course not!” Nazi whispered harshly. She sighed, setting her glass down. “Look, I considered telling her now, but she’s definitely going to kill me if we don’t do this right, and I decided I’m not ready to die, okay?”

Ancom pouted. “She doesn’t have a right to kill you. Wouldn’t she rather kill me?”

Nazi rolled her eyes. “Not how jealousy works, Ancom. Ju- Just let me handle this? I’ll figure it out. I just have to do it really delicately.”

Nazi felt guilt wash over her; she was lying through her teeth. There _was_ no delicate way to handle this. She just wanted to stall.

“Okay, now, just go and watch over Ancap, alright? And hide under her bed if one of the dirty centrists comes along. Can you do that?”

Ancom nodded.

“Alright. Great.”

She watched Ancom slouch out of the kitchen.

She couldn’t help herself.

Taking two steps forward, she reached for Ancom’s hand, twirling them around and planting a brief kiss on their lips before pushing them back the direction they were going in.

She was back on the porch, readjusting the shoulder pads of the uniform jacket. Her mother had sent her out, claiming she should be outside more. Her protests that it was too dark to properly see were ignored, and so she held a flashlight between her teeth to be able to continue working.

Her sister and the boys returned from the woods, where they had presumably been playing all afternoon. She looked up momentarily, but quickly focused back on her task.

“Still sowing?” the older boy asked, sitting down by her side. She bristled; he was sitting too close. She shifted away. He followed.

“Not sowing. Just- let’s call it tacking,” she quipped, suppressing the urge to scoot even further away.

“Just leave her,” her sister said. “She doesn’t like to talk. She’s not good at it.”

The boy looked up, but chose to ignore the younger girl as she continued on into the house. “So, what kind of uniform is it? Police?”

“It’s actually an old German military-”

“Honey!” her mother called out, interrupting her. She and the boy whipped their heads around. “What are you doing this late with a boy? Did you sneak him in?”

He got up to his feet, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling a vague apology.

“And how often have I told you not to bother other people with your obsessions?” she hissed, trying and failing to not let the boy hear. “Why can’t you just sow dresses?”

Her mother continued playfully reprimanding to the ‘young mister’, sending him and his younger sibling home. Nazi fixed the shoulder pads with a handful of stitches.

“You’ll never get a boyfriend if you talk to them about your stupid uniforms,” her sister said, sitting down by her side – a safe distance away – and eating a Popsicle.

“I’ll get a boyfriend,” Nazi muttered, unimpressed; the shoulder pads were much more important to her right now.

“What makes you so sure of that?” her sister sneered.

“Because I’m blonde and have blue eyes and our family has a good lineage. Genetically, I’m a great catch.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Sure it is. It’s called Darwinism.”

“That’s heresy!” her sister gasped.

“Shut up, mom might hear,” Nazi furrowed her brows at her.

Her sister leaned back, smug expression on her young face. “Well, you’re never going to get a boyfriend. Or a friend. You have a nasty personality and talk about boring stuff that nobody cares about.”

"I don't want friends who don't care about this stuff,” Nazi mumbled, not looking at her sister.

“Yeah, tell yourself that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally nearing the end here! I know pretty exactly which scenes are still left to do - which I'm glad for because I'm kinda anxious about this being yet another unfinished fic. That would be really lame.
> 
> (Wouldn't it be really meta-ironic if I broke off here? Would our lord and saviour be proud?)
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy a little setup chapter with a cute little scene of Authright's past that I couldn't get out of my head c:


	27. Chapter 27

Ancom swiveled around on Ancap’s precious desk chair. Ancap herself was lying down, dead to the world, occasionally groaning into her pillow. Ancom had heavily considered sneaking into Commie’s room to get some weed, but the idea of facing Commie was too intense; they weren’t even sure why. They weren’t scared of her, even if, judging by Nazi’s harried look, they should be.

More quiet grumbling. There was a certain organized chaos to the room, an efficient order that didn’t have the neurotic air Commie’s room had. Ancom got up from the chair, taking a few tentative steps around; Ancap had so much pointless shit lying around and they were honestly afraid of touching any of it; most of the items looked like they might light up and make noise when moved, and then Ancap would wake up and yell at them, and that really wouldn’t be relaxing.

“You gotta learn how to sneak better, dude,” Ancap mumbled, face still turned towards her bed. Ancom took a second to translate what she had said.

“Oh. Sorry,” they halted mid-step.

“Why are you even here?” She still didn’t turn her face up.

“To take care of you. Do- Do you want some water or something?”

Sighing in the rhythm of a small prayer. She shook her head.

“Okay.” Ancom carefully put the foot they’ve been holding two inches above ground down on the parquet. It creaked, but only very, very quietly. More groaning from Ancap’s perch.

“I don’t need to sleep. I’m fine. I just don’t have any more stuff to keep myself awake.” Her head was now squeezed into the junction of wall and bed. At least Ancom could understand her better now. “It was supposed to be your job to go fetch it. Fetch drugs and go to classes. That’s _such_ a low bar.” Ancap sounded whiny, not exactly a tone of voice Ancom was used to hearing from her. She was usually either extremely confident or extremely stressed out, not sulky.

“Sorry.” Ancom fidgeted with the hem of their sweater sleeve. “My friends don’t really talk to me anymore. We already fell out back in summer, and...yeah. Didn’t exactly get better in the meantime.”

“Did they not like being forcibly removed from the property?” The slightly nasal tone made the statement funnier than it was.

“No. And those who were okay with that weren’t okay with me associating with you guys.”

Ancap’s tired laughter was much more musical than her normal one. “Don’t tell them you and the fascist are fucking.” She turned her head around a bit, most of her face still hidden behind the sheets except her bloodshot eyes squinting teasingly at Ancom.

The latter swallowed, swaying from side to side. “Hey, uhm,” they searched for words, “are you going to- do you- are you-”

“Ancom.” Ancap began laboriously sitting up. “I don’t give half of a shit about what you do. Not anymore. I just really really want my goddamn property back.” She rubbed her eyes, still looking at the wall as she propped herself up on one elbow.

“Really?” Ancom asked, skeptical.

“Yeah dude. We can just be drug buddies again. That way you don’t waste my time;” she grinned up at Ancom, who flinched back. “What?”

“You’re...bleeding. Out of your nose. A lot.”

Ancap brought up a hand to touch her face; there was dried blood everywhere, as well as fresh blood dribbling from her nose. “Ah, fuck,” she muttered.

“I’m getting Commie.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ancap clumsily tried to get out of bed, supporting herself on her closet as her thin legs wobbled dangerously underneath her. “Just- just need to wipe it off.” She sounded nervous, and Ancom noticed sweat mixing in with the blood.

She tried to get to her desk where a stack of tissues lay; before she got there, she hunched over. “Ouch,” she mumbled grabbing at her chest.

“Are you okay? Maybe we should-”

Ancap collapsed on the floor.

They called the ambulance; Libertarian went along for the ride while Ancom and Commie stayed behind.

They stood and watched the ambulance drive off to the nearest hospital, Ancom rubbing their arms to keep out the cold; the sun was out, but it was cold. The duo turned around to get back into the apartment when Commie quickly pushed Ancom away to the side. They were about to protest, offended at the sudden assault, but as they stumbled behind the corner of the building they heard the main entrance door swing open and one glance over their shoulder revealed Neoliberal and a girl with her fingers in a cast striding out.

Ancom was glad they had all that experience sneaking away, otherwise hurriedly slinking behind the building on the gravel path might have been a challenge, but they were out of sight before Neoliberal even thought to turn around.

They heard snippets of her and Commie talking, the latter’s voice tense and just a tad sneering, but decided not to wait around out in the open. They went for Ancap’s secret entrance, planning on getting into the apartment before the new owner would return inside.

As they hopped up the stairs, they noticed something off; there were weird tubes and some piping running along the floor and climbing up the steps. They hadn’t seen any of the stuff hooked up to anything at the ground level, but they also hadn’t been paying attention; it seemed like a stupid decision to go back down to check unless they wanted to have to wait around in the cold again until the coast was clear, so they finished their ascent without pause.

As per usual, they took a quick peek into the hallway before exiting the stairwell. They stood in the corridor for a moment, undecided; was it truly wise to be alone with Commie in the apartment?

They heard the elevator come to life and practically jumped into the wackies’ apartment, quietly shutting the door behind them.

“Ah, great, you’re here!” Posadist just walked out of the kitchen, bowl of dry cereal in her hands and dressed in mismatched pajamas; Ancom had never seen the combination of a striped top, checkered sweats, and polka dotted socks before, but they kind of liked it.

“Cool outfit,” they said, voice quiet.

“You always come here to hide,” she beckoned them to follow her into her room, even more packed with various equipment than previously, if that was even possible. “Sometimes I think you don’t actually like me.”

“Of course I like you!" Ancom blurted, blushing heavily when Posadist turned to look at them with a teasing smirk. “You suck.”

“Nope. But I do need your help, dearest friend.”

“Now I _really_ feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“You also thought I wasn’t serious about the extraterrestrials, but here we are.”

“I wish you weren’t serious about that,” they mumbled.

“You’ll see. I need something unrelated to aliens though, sadly. I got some of Commie’s very sweet engineering friends to make me something, and it’s rather...bulky.”

“Don’t you have a broom closet? Thanks again, by the way.”

“Not a problem,” she smiled. Ancom smiled back, slightly embarrassed. “Did it at least work? Is every extreme _truly_ on the same team now?”

“Uhm,” Ancom shuffled around in their seat. “Kinda? I guess?”

Posadist raised her brows.

“I...still might need to talk to Commie about...stuff.”

Their friend didn’t quite frown; it didn’t seem to be the answer they wanted, but definitely the one they expected.

“You people can’t work together to save your own lives,” she took a loud, crunchy bite of the dry cereal. Ancom furrowed their brows. “Well, I care not; I just need to install that thing near the bottom of the stairs, but in a place where our new god-queen can’t find it.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Ancom perked up, “just use the little room thing by the secret entrance.”

“Secret entrance?”

Ancom tilted their head. “I honestly thought everyone knew about that; Ancap was so not subtle about it.” They shook their head. “Doesn’t matter, there’s a secret entrance at the back of the building and it has a little room between it and the stairwell so it’s not immediately findable upon using the stairs. It’s...about as big as a toilet.”

“Perfect! I knew you were useful; don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Now Ancom blushed for real. “Uh, thanks, I guess,” they stammered, trying to comb back their black hair, but failing because it was too short to be brushed back. “Is that cereal vegan?”

Posadist nodded, handing them the bowl. They dug in; it was sugary and delicious.

“So,” Posadist began, crossing her legs. “You and Commie. Or you and Nazi, I should say.”

Ancom halted their spoon midair, looking thoughtful. They put it back in the bowl, handing it to Posadist again.

“I...I’m- it’s weird.”

“Oh, is it”? The smaller girl chirped.

“Shut up,” they pouted, leaning back in their seat. “It’s- Commie- she was...it was cursed from the beginning, if I’m honest.” They dejectedly stared at the door, eyes roaming over the by now rather elaborate frame-contraption securing it. “She was just the only person who was nice to me in the beginning, because Ancap was so stressed out she had no...time to do anything but coke and tricking herself into a heart attack I guess. And Nazi..,” they trailed off.

“And Nazi,” Posadist repeated.

“She was awful. I hated her so fucking much. Every time I saw her alone she’d sneer and flee the scene, and when the others were around she kept directing conversations so that the others would, like, be mean to me or something.” They laughed joylessly. “It didn’t work, because they both had their own, very different issues, but...she tried, and I felt it. Felt the threat.”

Posadist gave them the bowl again and they took a brooding bite.

“She pretty much stopped trying to derail conversations when I got together with Commie; I think that’s what I liked about her. She made me feel safe because...for some reason everyone is really scared of her. I don’t get it all,” they looked up, for a change directly staring at Posadist, “Commie is soft as shit. Is it because she’s tall? I think it might be because she’s tall,” they muttered more to themselves than their friend.

“But Commie was so...possessive. That’s how our whole relationship fucking _started_ , a fight about me and Ancap hooking up, which isn’t even a big deal,” they shook their head at the cereal bowl, taking another spoonful. “And the stupid jerk was such a hypocrite, too! She actually slept with Nazi of all people around the same time I had a thing with Ancap. Did you know that?”

Resigned nodding.

“What? Really?”

“I tried to tell you about it, but I wasn’t sure. And you didn’t seem like you wanted to hear it either.”

Ancom swallowed thickly, looking at the floor.

“I found myself getting suffocated by Commie, and she really, really hurt me when she took Ancap’s side that one time.”

“When you had your homeless friends over?”

“Jesus, not you as well.”

“Just teasing you. Though they did look like hobos.”

“Some of them are actually homeless, but still. They were my friends. It doesn’t matter anymore, they don’t want anything to do with me anymore anyways,” they hunched over in their seat, hugging themselves. “I kept running away from Commie, didn’t want to share a bed with her, be around her when...when she reminded me of my parents and how they also pretended to care or at least be okay with minorities, but it was all bullshit.” Their words sped up; they swallowed, trying to calm down. “I often talked to Nazi during those times because...because she just happened to be around. And- and it’s stupid, but Nazi _does_ care about minorities and identity and all that stuff.”

Posadist raised her brows again.

“I know, I know,” Ancom sat back up, “the wrong way. But she at least cared at all. She...she actually found my ideas and my identity and all that...threatening,” they took a deep breath. “Instead of irrelevant.”

“She saw you,” Posadist leaned on her elbow.

“Yeah. And I know that’s a pretty low bar, but...yeah, well.”

“Well.”

“Well.”

Posadist giggled, and Ancom had to join after a moment.

Someone knocked at their door before leaning their head in; it was Nazi. “Hey, uhm. Commie wants to discuss the plan for tomorrow. She finished the code, apparently,” she said, waving at Posadist in greeting.

“Where were you?” Ancom hopped off their chair, twirling their fingers at their friend as they left the apartment.

“Talking to my boss at the train station service about getting to those eight hundred bucks,” she inhaled in heavily. “I got an extra shift tomorrow; a handful of those and some frugality, and then I got the stupid money.”

They walked into their apartment, hands touching briefly; Ancom felt goosebumps rise on their skin as they crossed the threshold, but Nazi continued as if nothing had happened.

“That means we have to start early, because I have work after.”

Ancom nodded, the two of them joining Commie in the kitchen.

Ancom loved a good heist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had little chapter notes for this one for the stuff I wanted to get done buuuuuuuuuuut none of that happened because stupid Posadist grabbed the spotlight again. She pretty much derailed my chapter planning every time she appeared so far (except the first time).
> 
> *sigh* I hope you have fun nonetheless!


	28. Chapter 28

Commie held the phone away from her ear as Ancap’s clamoring sounded out of it. Ancom was sitting on the floor, playing with a stray string from their sweater while the two economists ‘discussed’ the plan; Ancap, nervous and bossy at the same time, nagged Commie about every little detail, making she sure her code would really work and everything was _really_ in order. Meanwhile Nazi leaned against the wall, arms crossed and occasionally checking her nerdy pocketwatch.

She seemed to have enough. She stepped forward, grabbing the phone from Commie’s hand, telling Ancap that they’ll manage without her and hung up. She handed it back to Commie.

“Thanks, kulak.”

Nazi saluted. “I still have to get to work today. Let’s get this over with.”

Commie nodded, beckoning Ancom to stand up. “Right. You pick up Anarcho-monarchy and get down to the ground floor via elevator, Ancom, you take the stairs. Nazi stands guard while the kulak’s cousin lockpicks the door, pinging you when the door is open. Then you sneak out and just plug in the stick. It takes like fifteen seconds to install itself, then you unplug it and run; it should also corrupt the old files, so you don’t have to worry about the cameras in the foyer.”

“Will the thing tell me when it’s done?” Ancom worried the string some more.

Commie darted forward, grabbing the string and ripping it off in one fluent motion. “You’re going to destroy your pullover,” she muttered. “The stick will stop blinking. It should ‘self destruct’ _just in case_ something goes wrong, but the data on it might still be salvageable, so _don’t_ leave it.”

“Alright, alright,” Ancom pouted, unhappy about the string being gone.

They left the apartment with Nazi, the latter knocking on the wackies’ door to get Anarcho-monarchy out.

“Has Commie always been this bossy?” Ancom complained, leaning against the wall.

Nazi looked at them with scrunched brows. “How did you not notice that.”

“I don’t know.” They hugged themselves, looking off to the side.

“Don’t pretend with me, you secretly like it,” Nazi leered, knocking again when Anarcho-monarchy didn’t come out.

“No I don’t,” Ancom squawked.

“I’m no different than her,” she brushed her pretty blonde hair behind her ear, hidden under the handsome cap. “And honestly, neither is Ancap.”

“You’re all annoying is all I’m hearing.”

“And you like it.”

Throwing a nervous glance at her watch, Nazi knocked again, more erratic this time.

“Remind me again why you’re standing guard and not Commie?”

“She can’t improvise for shit. Plan yes, but improvise? God no.” Finally, shuffling in the apartment. “Ancap is the best at it, but she’s in the hospital and also unwilling to get caught in the crossfire. Selfish bitch.”

“Don’t call your friend that.”

“She wouldn’t mind.”

Anarcho-monarchy strutted out the door, motioning royally and wordlessly towards the elevator; it always looked a little silly, the majestic demeanor coupled with the wrinkled t-shirts and cheap-looking crowns.

Nazi nodded at Ancom and they hopped towards the stairwell.

Nazi didn’t like any of Ancap’s cousins very much; they were all very much like Ancap, but either more spineless, or more insane. And with Ancap’s tendency for lying running in the family, Nazi never felt quite safe with them. Even Hoppean, who had been more than curious about her explanations of applied Darwinism, really only creeped her out.

She looked down at Anarcho-monarchy and repressed wrinkling her nose. The wackies were all really short, except of course for Homonationalist, who instead looked unfittingly tall and spindly. Nazi hated that she was still a little afraid of the lot despite their physical inferiority.

They got out of the elevator and Anarcho-monarchy scuffled over to the porter booth; it was conveniently hidden from direct sight in most of the foyer, but somebody looking might still notice something wrong.

Nazi awkwardly stood in the middle of the three entrances to the foyer; the main entrance, the elevator and the stairwell, eyes darting around between them. She heard the clinking of the lockpicking set.

“Can you do that more quietly?” she hissed over her shoulder.

“Silence, vassal.”

Nazi groaned, rubbing her temples. She checked her pocketwatch. She was still perfectly on time.

She started when Anarcho-monarchy sauntered by her, wordlessly walking towards the elevator. She suppressed the desire to throw some insults out knowing that they would be useless, and texted Ancom the coast was clear. Of course it was clear. It was like seven am, nobody except her and Ancap were ever awake at such ungodly hours.

Ancom scurried past her, crouching down in the booth right as Nazi heard voices coming from outside.

Now, Ancap was always up before sunrise because she had a gambling addiction, and Nazi was up because she had work.

Neoliberal and the horse girl she was walking with apparently got up this early to go for a _run_.

Ancom was about to leave the booth again, but Nazi quickly motioned at them to stay inside as the two girls walked in the door, laughing heartily about nothing.

“Hello neighbor!” Neoliberal said.

“Howdy!” the horse girl stretched out her hand. Nazi made a face as she shook the sweaty palm, but neither of them seemed to notice. “We haven’t met yet, have we?” She spoke with a stupid accent and Nazi wasn’t sure whether she hated it more or less than Neoliberal’s bland, rootless English. It was more annoying, but at least it had a little bit of personality.

“Greetings,” she ground out, tying hard to sound friendly, “What are you doing up this early?”

“A good morning routine starts as early as possible so that you have plenty of time to be productive during the day,” Neoliberal ran a hand through her sweaty hair.

“And what’s better for starting the day than a good run? I love that the woods are so nearby here, so much better than running on concrete like in the last apartment,” the horse girl looked thankfully at her friend, smiling back.

“You guys introduce each other, I’m gonna go up and shower,” Neoliberal suggested brightly, touching both of their shoulders. Nazi bristled, again without anyone noticing.

The horse girl nodded eagerly, looking back at Nazi. “What’s got you up, dressed like that?”

 _Obviously, I have work_. “I’m heading out to work soon.”

“Oh, awesome! What do you work as?”

“Train station.”

“Ah, sweet job, right?”

Nazi made a face. “Not really. Pay’s trash.”

“Yeah,” she opened her ponytail, “that’s what entry level jobs are like. But they’re all like that, so it’s fine.”

Nazi scrunched her brows. “It’s...better if it’s bad everywhere?”

“It’s not _bad_ ,” the horse girl looked concerned, “it’s just, you know, okay. And you got a lovely uniform out of it. You look quite fetching!”

“Uh huh.” Nazi tapped her foot, eyes nervously darting over to the porter booth. “Right, I don’t want to hold you up or anything.”

“Oh, you’re not,” she lightly slapped Nazi’s shoulder and it was probably good that she didn’t have her gun with her right now, “I gotta wait for Lee, she’s always real pissed when we don’t wait for her after the morning routine run.”

 _Jesus have mercy. Morning routine people_. _Unironic, genuine morning routine people_.

“She’s real slow, it’ll probably be another half hour, but I’m scared if I don’t wait here the whole time she might come back earlier and be angry with us.”

“Ah,” Nazi typed a message at Ancom while they talked.

_Can you go half an hour in there?_

She immediately got a reply.

_NO!! theres a schedule in here someones coming to check in in like ten minutes!!!!!!!!_

Nazi squeezed her eyes shut.

“You alright, partner?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Nazi feverishly considered how to get rid of her; she couldn’t think of anything other than threatening physical violence and she could already hear Ancap making fun of her for it. “I was...just thinking about your friend. And how she’s very slow.” Maybe not get rid of her, but distract her until Ancom managed to sneak away.

While the horse girl rambled aimlessly about her friend having a hard time keeping up with her and Neoliberal, Nazi texted Ancom about the new plan; she was beginning to feel really impolite, but the horse girl refused to acknowledge her rudeness. Ancom texted a thumbs up emoji back.

“I mean, I’m not as fast as Neo, but Lee is half-Asian, I thought they were good at sports, right?”

“Really,” Nazi looked back up, “I thought Asians were mostly known for their high IQ scores.”

“I didn’t know that! That’s really interesting.”

Nazi groaned inwardly.

“Yes, Asians tend to do well academically, but only because they work well under drill conditions.” She began walking around the horse girl to make sure she wasn’t looking in Ancom’s direction anymore.

“What do you mean? I don’t really think much about stuff like that, honestly.”

An old instinct kicked in; she could plant another seed.

“Well, Asians are merely good at following rules and not intelligent per se, unlike for example the Germans or the Dutch, people of European heritage in general.”

She pressed her phone screen to text Ancom the ‘ok’ sign when she noticed the horse girl getting drawn in by her.

“What about us here?” she asked.

Nazi put on a tight smile; what an idiotic question. As if they had a heritage here.

“Those of us who descended from the Dutch and the Germans have a good track record of building big companies. The English too, admittedly. And honestly, it’s a real shame that it isn’t the people who are working hard to make the country great that own it.”

Ancom snuck out and disappeared in the stairwell while she talked.

The horse girl furrowed her brows, frowning. “That’s starting to sound a lot like communism, if you ask me.”

Nazi started. “What?”

“All that talk about the workers owning the state and whatnot, sounds kinda radical left to me.”

Nazi squinted at her. “Left?”

“Right. You seem like a nice girl, just a little tense. Maybe you should relax a little.”

“I...seem like a nice girl to you?”

“Yeah!” she smiled down at Nazi amicably. “Maybe a little conservative, but that’s alright.”

Still perplex, Nazi shook her head, beginning to wander off. “Okay. Well, I have to get to work now,” she mumbled, turning away and leaving the horse girl behind.

Still rattled about the sheer confusion she felt about the last conversation, she nearly had a heart attack when Ancom suddenly appeared next to her on the path to the bridge.

“What the fuck was that?” they snapped.

“What?” Nazi took a moment to regain her senses. “What was what?”

“The racist nonsense you spouted!” They were seething.

Nazi was still befuddled. “You know I’m racist.”

“No, but,” they stopped walking for a moment, but Nazi continued marching ahead, unwilling to be any later than she already was. “Hey! Wait up,” they hurried after her.

They stuffed their hands into the pockets of their shiny windbreaker. “I thought...you changed. Since...”

Nazi worried her lip. “Not...not really. Having sex with you was nice, but not exactly a convincing political argument,” she also stuffed her hands into her pockets.

“So you still think I’m inferior.”

“I didn’t say that. I referenced real statistics about Asians.”

“Coupled with random assumptions you made. Also, so what? Would you think I was inferior to your amazing Dutch or German heritage if I was Asian?”

“You wouldn’t be you if you were Asian.”

Ancom frowned deeply.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like you changed your mind about hierarchies being important to make things work. And I like that. I don’t want you to abandon all your principles just because,” she trailed off for a moment, directing her eyes at the overcast sky. “I like you, the person, but I don’t have to agree with you. And vice versa.”

“Easy for you to say. I don’t want to systematically get rid of you.”

“Yeah you do.”

They walked a couple of paces in silence. Nazi was painfully aware that her sweet sentiment hadn’t been returned.

“Ancom,” she turned and reached for Ancom, pulling them flush against her; it felt wonderful. She had yearned to be close to them again during the whole night, and her skin tingled just as wonderfully as it had when they had slept in the wackies’ broom closet. Their body was still so very warm, soft, and pliant and her hand wanted to run up their spine and curl in their hair.

The embrace only lasted a moment though; Ancom aggressively wound out of it the moment they touched. Nazi let go.

“I- I have to think about this,” they said, rubbing their arm.

“What’s there to think about?” Nazi stepped forward, feeling a sharp sting when Ancom inched away. “I like you and you...like me.” Ancom’s eyes softened. “Maybe you could just believe me now that I’m not trying to be horrible when I tell you about statistical facts-”

“You should really shut up more often,” Ancom melancholically grinned up at her, expression disappointed. “Your life would be a lot easier if you did.”

Nazi straightened her back, swallowing. “That’s probably true.”

Her eyes followed Ancom as they walked away, shoulders slumping and hands still in their pockets. Unsure whether to feel dejected or frustatedly angry, Nazi turned on her heel, cursing alternatingly to and at herself as she stomped down the path to get to the train station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still didn't get to any of the scenes I laid out. I suck, but oh well.
> 
> From where I'm standing right now it should be about 3-4 more chapters then this stupid long thing will be done and it will be the first creative thing I ever finished and isn't that weird. Oh god I hope I didn't jinx it-


	29. Chapter 29

Commie sat in her room, staring out of the window. Her notes and calculator were laid out in front of her and she tightly clutched a pencil, but it was all for show; her gaze was fixed on the small garden that came with the building, watching, but not really seeing the grayed grass and the dead bushes swaying slightly in the wind.

She tried to focus her thoughts on something, be it the outline of the crooked twigs or the technical drawing she had started but not finished, maybe even get her analytical side back by musing on theory; she was so good at this, was a systematic, consequent person who reveled in in putting together the pieces of a complex puzzle to get to a logical whole. That’s why she was good at engineering, math, planning, organizing, overseeing, controlling that everything was in order.

And theory.

She was really good at theory.

She clenched her teeth; her thoughts refused to formulate words and go back to being useful like they were supposed to. Instead, they aimlessly circled around a central theme without ever touching it.

 _Ancom_.

Ancom cared not for her theory, unless it helped them with their praxis. They didn’t want to be bound by an all too strict framework, afraid that it would render them inflexible; they were nothing if not adaptable, near instantly not only getting used to, but fully incorporating new ideas partially so foreign Commie still couldn’t wrap her head around them. She was intelligent, no doubt, but she needed to think long and hard about everything she encountered, while Ancom trusted their heart to know which ideas were good and which were to be discarded immediately.

Commie had often kept on talking long after Ancom had already agreed with her; she would hear them try to tell her that she can stop arguing now because they were already on board, but it was hard not to blurt out all the amazing points she had thought out in her long years of thinking about the topic at hand.

She hadn’t really realized that the reverse also happened; she had also kept on trying to convince them of things long after they had made up their mind that she was wrong, her awfully domineering side breaking through; she was right and had all these great arguments, but Ancom focused on how offended they were about her infantilizing them by ignoring their dissent, shifting the framework of the conversation to a place in which Commie didn’t feel comfortable or at home.

She was good at arguments like she was good at math.

The door creaked open and her fingers snapped together, breaking apart the pencil she’d been holding.

“Oh. Hey. Sorry, should I-”

Commie looked at Ancom standing in the doorframe, toes pointed together in that demure way Commie didn’t like.

“Hello,” she swallowed, unsure how to address them, Ancom or Anarkitty? She forewent it entirely.

“Are you busy?” Their toes pointed even farther inwards and that point it must’ve been uncomfortable, but Commie refrained from saying anything. She vaguely remembered an unhinged rant about how authoritarians start their mind control by controlling people’s bodies and the way they get to move; she hadn’t understood any of it, but Ancom had been rather passionate.

She tightly shook her head, trying to inconspicuously get rid of the two pencil halves.

“Did you manage to install the stick?” Her voice sounded devoid of emotion and it was the best she could do right now; it was that or bursting out in regretful tears.

Ancom pulled out the flash drive from the back pocket of their shorts, tossing it to her. She didn’t even try to catch it, feeling clumsier than ever. It landed on the bed right next to her desk.

“How’s Ancap?” they asked and the high pitched trill of their voice made Commie want to reach out and pull them onto her lap where they belonged.

“She’s alright. Called me about twenty times to make sure everything was in order; she’s going to have a second heart attack right away at this rate.”

Ancom giggled. “Maybe she’s just bored.”

Commie tried to shrug, but it was stiff. “Her cousin is with her to keep her company, though she tried to send her away to continue snooping.”

“Did she manage?”

“No. It’s the clingy cousin.”

“Ah.”

Ancom had their hands clasped behind their back, swaying to stand on their tiptoes. Commie’s eyes wandered down to their feet hidden inside their plateau sneakers. She hated those horrible things; Ancom had assured her that they were thrifted, but she despised the logo on the side and the knowledge of how they had been made nonetheless.

“We should talk.”

Commie clenched her teeth. She looked back up into Ancom’s eyes and nodded.

Nazi grumbled angrily to herself as she strode up the gravel path to the train station, painfully aware that running the last few feet wouldn’t really make her any less late. Her hands were still stuffed into her pockets, the right one clenching around her keys in lieu of the usual comforting feeling of her pistol; the metal dug into her palm and she wondered faintly if it would work better if the jags were pressed onto the bruise on her left hand. Maybe Ancom had a point with the self harm thing.

She imperiously threw open the door to the booth, Nazbol already lounging inside it; that was unfair, Nazbol wasn’t nearly as slouchy as she used to be, not since the talk at the bar. Which is probably also why she was on time while Nazi stamped her card fifteen minutes late, a sting of shame running through her as she looked at the red print informing her of that fact. She plopped down on her seat next to Nazbol, not even acknowledging her colleague. The brunette still threw her a friendly grin, though she didn’t begin her usual blabbering. Nazi was thankful for the small things life still gifted her.

She caught herself arguing with an imaginary devil that she’d absolutely trade being annoyed by Nazbol and whoever else he decided to throw her way if it meant Ancom would stop making a fuss.

She physically cringed at the thought of their name. Stupid judgmental asshole. Like they were fucking perfect; she had explained herself over and over again, but Ancom didn’t want to listen.

They didn’t have to listen. Nazi just wanted them to like her.

“I want to get something out of the way right now,” Ancom said, exhaling heavily.

Commie clenched her teeth for the umpteenth time, nodding; every time they opened their mouth she feared for the worst, her whole body going tense.

She motioned for them to go ahead.

“I...it was me who gave Neoliberal some of Ancap’s papers. I...I just wanted to get rid of the guards and it really felt like that was the only way and I didn’t expect her to take over, just sue Ancap or something,” they spoke faster and faster, “make her get rid of her stupid guards and I didn’t know this was going to happen, otherwise I would’ve never done it and I’m sorry I betrayed all of you.” They took a deep breath.

Commie raised her brows.

“Feel free to tell whoever; I- I had to say something because I can’t handle keeping secrets very well,” they swallowed thickly. “I’d like to deliver the news to the others, but yeah. Not going to stop you if you try to come before me.”

Commie nodded, slowly.

“I understand.”

“You do?” Ancom perked up.

She nodded again, even slower. “It was a bad situation and you didn’t know how to act. You betrayed Ancap, but she first made you feel very uncomfortable. Which she did because you made her feel very uncomfortable.” Maybe if she used the word ‘feel’ often enough Ancom would love her again. “Which was all predicated on her renting out a broom closet.”

“Which she only did because my friends betrayed me,” Ancom whispered, rubbing their nose.

“It’s not a good situation,” she tried to keep her voice even, make Ancom feel at ease. “What’s important is that you found back to our cause.”

Ancom threw her a regretful smile. She returned the gesture.

Nazi had gone out to clean the tracks and tighten some screws; it was busy work, but somebody had to do it at some point anyway and she couldn’t stand Nazbol’s nervous fidgeting anymore. Sullen eyes focused on the chisel she was hacking away the dirt with, she winced whenever the handle dug uncomfortably into her bruise.

She heard Nazbol’s loud steps approach her from behind; she suppressed her groan. At least her colleague didn’t sneak up on her like everyone else was so prone to.”Next train coming in in about an hour. Just so you keep it in mind,” Nazbol said, steel capped boots coming to a halt right next to where Nazi was working.

She nodded, but otherwise ignored her. To her increased chagrin, that wasn’t enough to make Nazbol leave again; some people were simply immune to her rude tactics for getting rid of them.

After another moment, a clean looking piece of white cloth dangled next to her face. She looked up and took it, confused.

“What is this?” she asked, slightly annoyed.

“For your hand,” Nazbol waved her hand at Nazi. The latter furrowed her brows, but nodded, tying the fabric around her injury; she failed and it nearly fell on the dirty gravel, but Nazbol quickly knelt down and caught it. “Let me,” she mumbled, making quick work of the makeshift bandage while Nazi leaned away to avoid touching her as much as possible.

Arranging the band so that it fit comfortably around her palm, Nazi gave her colleague a tight smile. “Thanks.”

It was Nazbol’s turn to nod. She fussed around with her cap, still not leaving.

“Anything else?” Nazi tried to sound friendly, but it didn’t really work.

“Yeah, actually,” Nazbol pulled out something from behind her back; it was Nazi’s gun.

Her eyes went wide as she impolitely grabbed it, inspecting it from all sides with an open mouth. “Oh my god, where did you find it?” she looked up at Nazbol, cradling her precious pistol like a baby.

“Found it under the bridge,” she rubbed the back of her neck, “don’t tell anyone, but I go fishing there sometimes.”

Nazi felt compelled to ask why the fishing was secret, but she honestly didn’t care. She looked back at her pistol with awe, fingers gently going over the elegant grooves in the metal; she had really missed it. “How is it so clean?” she asked, eyes still transfixed on the black lacquer, as pristine as the day she bought it; there had always been traces of usage on it, seeing how old the thing was, but she knew every single one of them by heart.

“I fixed it up a little at my parents’ workshop,” Nazbol stuffed one of her hands into her back pocket, twirling her fingers at where she had done some work on the gun, explaining what she did; Nazi only half listened, much too busy being happy she had her most valuable possession back.

She had the gun, but she didn’t have Ancom.

“Thanks. A lot,” she said as she got up, awkwardly lifting her arm to pat Nazbol’s shoulder; that’s a normal gesture people made, right? Nazbol at least seemed happy, beaming at her.

“No problem,” she smiled.

“Wait a second,” Nazi said when her colleague turned to go back to the booth. “How did you know it belonged to me?”

Nazbol scrunched her brows. “You play with it like, all day.”

“I do?” Nazi blanched.

Nazbol nodded. “It stuck out of the back of your pants on the first day already, and you kept checking whether it was still there. I almost offered you a holster so you could carry it around properly, but you didn’t seem like you’d accept it,” she shrugged.

Nazi’s befuddled gaze went from her to her gun and back to her.

“Did you think you were being subtle?” Nazbol asked, genuinely curious.

“Uhm,” Nazi stammered, turning the gun in her hand, “no, no.” She shook her head. “I just thought you weren’t that attentive,” she smirked, relieved she had figured out a good response.

Nazbol laughed heartily. “You probably still think you and your friend’s beliefs are contradictory as well, don’t you?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Ah, you’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll be here waiting,” she winked and began walking away. “Oh, and if your pistol ever needs cleaning, hit me up! I can’t stand dirty weapons.”

Nazi tilted her head, but grinned. “Alright. I- I will.” She waved her goodbye.

“And don’t forget about that train! You have like another half hour!”

“Yeah, yeah, just go!” Nazi shooed her away, stuffing her gun in the back of her pants as she continued to chisel away at the dirt.

They had been talking for quite a while now; not just talking, but fighting and yelling, some crying, mostly by Ancom. Commie’s throat was hoarse by now and Ancom had foregone standing in the doorway, instead huddling on the floor and leaning against the wall while Commie still sat in her desk chair.

They were going in circles. Like her stupid thoughts, their conversation circled, or made little eights around something specific neither of them wanted to say; Commie’s back was straight, her pose unnatural as she sat. It had to be. One crack and the dam would break and she already knew she’d just order Ancom to drop their pointless whining and just get together with her again.

This was idiotic. They lived in an apartment with two abhorrent rightists, one of whom had downright made Ancom sell their body; how that wasn’t a bigger topic right now was beyond Commie, but the point was that it was so obvious that they had to stick together. But whenever she brought that up, Ancom would start whining about how they didn’t want to sacrifice their freedom or something.

Their reservations were absurd, but Commie forced herself not to say that; she coated her words in honey as much as she could just to keep Ancom from running away, because if they did this time, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Grab them and pin them to the ground, probably. And then yell at them to get over their silly issues and love her, god damn it.

“Commie,” Ancom sounded as frustrated as Commie felt, “isn’t there something you want to tell me? Because there’s something I want to tell you, and...this whole conversation is fucking worthless if we don’t get to that at some point.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Anar- Ancom.” She was over this fight, if she was honest.

Ancom looked sorely disappointed, eyes pleading with her to ‘be honest’ or whatever they thought they were trying to do. Commie rummaged her head for something she should be telling them.

“Do you mean something adjacent to my family visit?” she tried.

Ancom shook their head, chuckling disbelievingly. “ ‘Adjacent’,” they muttered. “What a word. No. I don’t mean that.”

“Well, what is it then? I'm at a loss, alright? I just want to get this over with so we can finally get back together,” she crossed her arms. The dam was leaking.

Ancom looked dumbfounded. “Really?” they asked, throwing their arms out before crossing them again. “Okay. I guess I’ll start then.”

They didn’t start. They were still curled up on the floor, fumbling around with their sweater sleeve while Commie repressed the urge to impatiently tap her foot.

Slowly, they rose to their feet. Commie raised her brows, taking the action as a cue to get up as well. They threw their gaze at the wall to their left, rubbing their arm.

“I want you to know that...that I’m really sorry and..,” they swallowed, coughing when something got stuck in their throat. “I don’t think I ever felt safe with you after I had that get together party thing.”

It was like a punch in the gut. Commie needed a moment to process, but Ancom just kept going.

“And it was really hard to be with you after, because I felt like you...just betrayed me, but...where was I supposed to go?” They were teary eyed, but Commie only felt the pain emanating from her stomach. “You said it already, this whole place was just super hostile for me and I was so scared I’d freeze in the winter if I didn’t play my cards right, so,” they wiped their eyes, hands covering their face for a moment as they tried to regain their composure. “So I didn’t always act the way I should have, with what I knew about you. And I want you to know that I’m really really sorry.”

Commie wanted nothing more than for them to get to the point. She had the urge to hunch over, but she didn’t, keeping a straight back as she was used to when terrible things were happening. She knew how to suffer, even if she didn’t like it.

“I...Nazi and I often talked because she just always happened to wander into the room when I was feeling lonely, and at the time I thought it was chance, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t,” they chuckled; it didn’t fit the scene. Their face turned morose again and they took a deep breath.

“I,” they closed their eyes. “I slept with Nazi.”

The pain stopped. The horrible guilt and regret gnawing at Commie’s insides vanished.

Ancom opened one of their eyes, looking apprehensive as they nearly disappeared in their sweater like a turtle in its shell.

The pain was gone, and it was replaced by something much louder: jealousy. And righteous rage.

And a striking feeling of hurt, but it was drowned out by the first two.

All much preferable to guilt.

Nazi stood behind the apartment building, smoking before she’d enter. She didn’t indulge in the habit overly often, last but not least because her sister used to taunt her that smoking cigarettes was ‘mannish’ as she called it, but she had never quite been able to let it go. She’d started when she got her first job; smokers had implicitly gotten more breaks, and Nazi had needed all the breaks she could get. Their church had suggested to her mother that maybe a job at the old folks’ home might make her less angry and more compassionate, but all Nazi had learned was that the old and weak should not have so much effort expended on them while the young and strong were neglected. And that smoking awarded you more breaks.

The second lesson had held true for most of the jobs she’d had since.

Another reason why she didn’t smoke more often was that it was so _expensive_. She threw away the cigarette butt, grimacing when she saw the price tag still sticking to the back of her package. A cold gust of wind went through the pines behind the house and she cast her eyes up at the gray sky. She was looking forward to taking a hot shower.

She turned around, coming face to face with Commie, hand reaching out to grab her.

Nazi was startled, but evaded just in time, taking a step back.

“What the hell, don’t fucking touch me!” she exclaimed, eyes going wide when Commie completely ignored her bristling in favor of reaching back to punch her. The punch landed and Nazi’s hands instinctively went up to cradle her nose, hurting like shit, but probably unbroken. Tears shot into her eyes as she tried to get out of reach, failing.

There was really only one explanation for what was happening; Nazi would’ve cursed Ancom hadn’t she been so scared.

Adrenaline burst through her system as Commie, eyes crazed and face contorted in anger, lunged at her with a grunt, toppling them both over into the small patch of grass.

“Stop!” she yelled, even though it was completely pointless. She held her arms up above her face in defense as Commie straddled her, getting increasingly disoriented with each time her head rattled under the blows.

She panicked, breathing shallow and pulse high; one arm still up to shield her face, the other reached down, worming under her torso and clasping around something hard and cold. She grabbed it, quickly pulling it out from under her and putting the barrel right up to Commie’s stomach; she only had one chance.

Commie noticed the cold metal digging into her soft flesh, momentarily stunned as she looked down to see Nazi’s gun lined up to her.

 _Bang_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday, I wrote a self-indulgent oneshot instead...but isn't all fanfiction kind of self-indulgent?
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Relatively graphic descriptions of gun violence

Nazi was crouching under her desk, fingers digging painfully into her skull. She was grinding her teeth, the noise the only thing filling her ears. She began gently rocking where she sat, hands gripping her head even more tightly.

Ancom was sorry for every time they had thrown nasty jealous glances at Libertarian, upset about Ancap wasting her time with her petty cousin; Libertarian was stressed out, sure, but she seemed like she had things relatively under control, acting quickly and consequently.

Hadn’t she been there, Ancom wouldn’t have known how to handle any of what had just happened, their vision hazy and mind a blank bundle of chaos when they heard the loud shot echo through the woods, saw the explosion of scarlet onto Nazi’s dark uniform, even if it was all from far away. They’d had to focus all of their energy on not fainting when they saw Commie’s form go limp on top of Nazi, collapsing horrifyingly and burying Nazi underneath it.

It was so much more disturbing than they would have thought it to be; Ancom was used to fights and had honestly believed that it didn’t really matter whether the mighty swing of a bat knocked someone out or a gunshot.

They had been wrong.

Close combat made sense; one object or fist made contact with another, then there was a dull thud and the momentum would topple the other person, unless their strength sufficed to keep them upright.

Guns didn’t make sense like that. A tiny piece of metal, barely visible from afar, was somewhere in sight, then, without any warning, it was suddenly really, really loud. That noise was the only fanfare the victim got before they unceremoniously dropped to the ground. It was like an invisible death.

Ancom flinched. They sat curled up on the couch of the foyer, shoes leaving dirty stains on the pretty upholstery Neoliberal had bought to ‘improve the general atmosphere’, while Libertarian was on the phone, calling person after person to fix what had happened. Ancom wanted to think something venomous about there being no such thing as debating someone back to life, but they knew that wasn’t what Ancap’s cousin was doing; she was doing damage control. And she was crazy good at it.

She put down her phone, directing her gaze at the ugly plated ceiling and sighing deeply.

“Okay, so,” she walked over to Ancom, sitting down on the couch besides them with some difficulty, her tight leather skirt trying to run up her legs, “Ancap is livid, as expected.” She exhaled, collecting herself. “But she said she can send some people over to clean the scene. We’re extremely lucky that absolutely everyone who could be a problem without a bribe was at that student council meeting thing. It’s like you guys timed this,” she smiled tersely.

Ancom didn’t know when exactly it had been decided that they would be covering for Nazi, but they were sure nobody had asked them. They had heard Ancap yelling something about damage control through the phone speakers.

“What about the hospital?” they mumbled; their limbs felt heavy, but at the same time they were antsy, anxious to get upstairs.

Libertarian laughed. “Our family owns it. Minarchist is arranging the whole thing as we speak.”

Ancom squinted at Libertarian. “Do you guys own the whole town?”

Libertarian considered for a second. “Pretty much, yeah.” She relaxed a little in her seat. “You might have noticed that most buildings are relatively new; our family built most of them when the new campus was announced. The population was going to rise, and so we made sure we owned everything the new local market would provide.”

Ancom exhaled, burying their head in their knees.

“Even you have to admit that right now it’s pretty great to have some privately owned property available,” she joked cordially.

Ancom slowly wiped their eyes into their sleeve, not responding.

“Hey,” Libertarian’s voice was soft as she laid a comforting hand on their back. “It’s going to be fine, okay?”

Ancom kept their head down for another moment, then shakily nodded, rising to their feet. “I’m gonna go upstairs now. Keep me updated?”

Libertarian nodded, touching their arm a last time before they left. She was really sweet.

They had wanted nothing more than to finally return to the apartment the whole time they’d had to stay in the foyer, listening to Libertarian and telling her exactly what happened, but now their heart beat up into their throat as the elevator tauntingly crawled up the floors; the goddamn thing had gotten slower just for the occasion.

They stood in front of the apartment door, waiting for several agonizing seconds in the vague hope that somehow, everything would just be fixed.

Feeling tired and anxious at the same time, they pressed down the handle and entered the flat, deathly quiet. The silence was dull, incomplete; they perked up their ears to hear what broke it. Shallow, shaky breaths, just as they could’ve expected. They sighed, aware that it was their duty to go to the source of the sound; they faintly wondered when they had started caring about duty.

They gently knocked on Nazi’s door; of course, no answer came, so they just walked in. The room wasn’t like the last time they’d seen it; the flag was gone, the desk was much more in order, but the doom and gloom the room had emanated then still haunted it.

Their heart skipped a painful beat when they saw Nazi, curled up into a small, cramped up ball under her desk, hands grasping at her skull and shoulders lightly shaking. She wasn’t wearing her uniform anymore; the capitalist cousins had taken care of it, so she sat there in her awfully plain underwear. Maybe she was merely shivering because she was cold.

“Hey,” Ancom stepped over to her, hovering for a moment before crouching down in front of her. “Can you hear me?” they asked, voice becoming shaky as they took in every tight sinew of her hand, every muscle taut.

Nazi nodded. Something akin to a small spasm, then she dropped her arms, looking up at Ancom with dead eyes, waiting, expectant somehow. Her face was bruised, though all the blood had been washed away at Libertarian’s stern order. Still, black and purple spots lingered under her left eye and her nose was reddened, and several bruises and scratch marks from the gravel were left on her cheeks.

“Commie’s at the hospital,” they stated, looking at their shoes. Their eyes traveled forward to Nazi’s feet, stuck in her boring white tennis socks. Her toes curled at the mention of Commie’s name.

“How’s she holding up?” Nazi asked voicelessly.

Ancom swallowed. “Still in surgery.”

There was a long stretch of silence as both of them refused to stare at anything other than their feet.

“I didn’t mean to,” the rest of the sentence got swallowed in Nazi’s throat sowing itself shut. She rested her head on her knees again. “I thought she was going to-”

“Just leave it,” Ancom cut in. “Ancap has it under control. She’s making sure this gets covered up.”

Nazi nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

More silence. Nazi started shivering again.

“Are you cold?”

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

Ancom got up, holding their hand out to Nazi. She looked up at them, clear blue eyes reddened and even more sunken than usual and Ancom felt themselves getting nauseous again; she reminded them of the Nazi from far too many nights ago, desperately clawing at their door. A small, pathetic version of her, all her fiendish, destructive pride wiped away to leave behind a very forlorn specter. Ancom’s eyes fell onto the desk with the sowing machine where a laminate plate laid to cover the wood; Nazi took the offered hand and Ancom had to swallow when they spotted the marks of where her nails had dug into the skin of her palm.

They helped her up, guiding her to lie down on the bed; she stood fast before it, refusing to have herself be pushed onto it.

“I hate that bed,” she said, still very quiet.

Ancom stilled, gaze flitting between Nazi and the bed.

“Uh,” they hesitated, “why?”

Nazi shook her head. “I don’t like what I’ve done on it.” She bit her lip.

Pity shot through Ancom, feeling the healing grooves on Nazi’s palm. “Okay. Do you want to go to Ancap’s room maybe?”

Nazi set her jaw, looking defiant for a moment, but dropped the expression right after. The two of them were still holding hands, Ancom fully dressed while Nazi swayed on her feet in her white undershirt and panties.

When she gave her okay, Ancom slowly walked her to Ancap’s room, closing and locking the door behind them as Nazi thoughtlessly wandered over to the bed and laid down on it. Ancom frowned, shooing Nazi away to pull out the blanket from underneath her and cover her with it. Nazi’s movements were stiff, even more so than usual, and the way she was lying down looked more than unnatural.

Ancom debated internally whether they should leave her alone and simply guard the post outside or stay; Nazi seemed even more tired than they were and just watching her blank stare was painful.

“Did you tell her because you were angry with me?”

Ancom tugged at their own sleeve. They shook their head.

“No. I told her because it’s the truth and,” their voice broke, "I thought she deserved to know and I, I didn’t think she would really go out to hurt you and I didn’t know you had a _fucking gun_ on you all the time and that you’d _actually use it_ ,” they started crying, body folding in on itself as they collapsed onto the floor.

“How did this even happen?” they hiccuped, hand held against their forehead, “how did so many things go this fucking wrong at the same time?” A loud sob wrenched itself from their throat and they felt a cold hand curl around their shoulder and pull them towards the bed. “How could you have _shot_ her? How was that even an option? What is freaking wrong with the two of you that you were not only willing, but fucking _able_ to murder each other?” Their words were swallowed up in more frenetic sobs and they buried their head in their knees, the cold hand moving up to softly pet their hair.

As their vision was obstructed by the tears, the image of the striking red blooming out of Commie and splattering onto Nazi hounded them, disgusting and mortifying and _real_. A pained whine escaped them in between their hiccups and the hand framed their cheeks, drawing them even closer.

They let themselves be caressed, reveling in how gentle the blonde’s touches had gotten; Nazi was not _good_ at gentle, almost clumsy in how all her strokes and squeezes were often much too hard and sometimes even painful and Ancom grit their teeth thinking about the two fleeting encounters they had had. A wave of confusion, guilt, and longing rushed through them and they whimpered.

“Can I come in as well?” they asked, voice small.

“Yeah,” Nazi scooted further inwards, making room for them, “but it’s still really cold. Maybe you can heat it up,” she gave them a stilted smile.

They crawled under the covers, instinctively pressing themselves up against Nazi, who really was still cold as ice.

“How are you never warm?”

Nazi looked rigid at first, but quickly adapted, wrapping her frigid arms around Ancom. Her eyes glistened in the dull room and her lips were parted as she looked down at Ancom; her skin and hair were soft against Ancom and they caught themselves wondering how someone like her could be so very pretty.

Her hands gripping at their back, once again too tight to feel comfortable, warned Ancom of what was to come. Nazi pressed her lips on theirs, teeth clacking and their head being pushed back by the force. Her nails dug into their neck and her tongue invaded their mouth and the contrast of the heat shooting through them to the cold wrapped around them made them tremble.

They felt Nazi grimace into the kiss and opened their eyes, coming face to face with the most pained expression they had ever seen on someone making out. Nazi’s body was soft, feminine, very much unlike Ancap’s bony and Commie’s trained one, and yet it was so much harder to relax into it; she kept Ancom on their toes, always waiting for a scratch or a bite that was a little too harsh to be perfectly pleasurable.

It was precisely Nazi’s hand gripping a bit too forcefully at their hair that jerked a moan out of them, and Nazi took it as a sign to roll on top of them, knee digging into their center.

She released them from the bruising kiss, heavily panting down and brows low.

“Are- are you broken up now? A- are we-” she swallowed, interrupting herself. Ancom could feel the question even if they didn’t hear it.

_Are you mine now?_

One part of them – an old, outdated one that still believed they had more in common with someone like Neoliberal and her friends than Nazi – screamed _no_ , she’s a dangerous fascist who just a few hours ago _shot_ someone and that Ancom should take their chance and run.

Of course there was also a reasonable part that very quietly tried to put things into perspective, tried to make an argument for self defense, but it was drowned out completely by the ecstatic pants of the Ancom that wanted Nazi to bruise them even more.

They arched their back up at her and wrapped their arms around her neck to draw her back down, hoping to forget about this cursed day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday, I was just reeeaaally tired, shame on me!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed anyway ^^


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: relatively graphic depictions of gun violence

Commie’s head hurt. She tried to sit up, grunting when she noticed her torso hurting much more than her head.

“Fuck,” she ground out as she dropped back down, vision swimming for a moment, everything around her a blur of white.

“Yo, you’re awake,” a familiar croak assaulted her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut again, trying vainly to block it out. The voice immediately began rambling at her, but she didn’t hear a single word. She wanted to cover her ears, but several needles in her arm prevented her; she groaned instead, hoping Ancap would get the hint.

She didn’t.

“Where am I?” Commie asked, interrupting her.

“Hospital, obviously,” she heard Ancap shift in her own bed.

Commie finally forced herself to open her eyes properly, taking in her surroundings. The room was clean and well stocked, only holding two beds; hers and Ancap’s. Her head still felt fuzzy as she looked down herself, for the first time feeling the heavy bandages holding her gut together. She lifted the thin blanket she was covered with and grimaced when she saw what looked like disconcertingly fresh blood on the top layer of the gauze; it was only a small spot, but it was still bright red and the sting that came from the same area didn’t comfort her either.

“I had you moved to my room so we could play apartment together,” she heard Ancap’s smirk, but was too focused on the red to glare at her.

“Just kidding,” the capitalist said when she didn’t respond. “I had you move here so we can continue planning.”

Commie was still fixated on her bandage.

“Are you there?”

It took a lot of effort to tear her eyes away; her mind’s numbness was slowly being erased by the red stain, uncovering the sensation of something cold pressed into her and a loud noise, a face white with fear, and a sudden burst of flaming anger.

She looked straight ahead, at the white hospital wall.

“Nazi shot me.”

Ancap sounded careful. “Yep.”

“When?” Commie slowly turned to face her roommate.

“Like two days ago. You got lucky, bullet went straight through, only a bit of debris needed to be removed.”

Commie directed her gaze back at the bandages. Nazi’s choked up coughing and sputtering rung in her ears, a constant loop, always ended by a loud _bang_.

“You shouldn’t plan anymore,” Commie droned on autopilot, though she noticed that it hurt to talk. “You have to relax.”

Ancap’s friendly demeanor dropped instantly, reminding Commie uncomfortably that she was dealing with a creepy actor while being rather vulnerable.

“With both of us at the hospital and only the two useless identitarians left, how the _hell_ am I supposed to get my building back if I just _relax_?” she asked, grin frozen on her face.

Commie considered arguing that there were still the wackies and her cousins, but she didn’t wish to test her luck. She nervously searched Ancap’s bedside table and the bag at its side for any sign of a-

“What are you looking for?” Ancap asked warily.

“N- Nothing,” Commie quickly stammered. She felt the distrustful squint pierce through her, breaking out in a cold, shivering sweat.

Coughing _. Bang._ Coughing _. Bang._ Coughing _. Bang._

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply despite the ache that spread from the bandages.

Nazi stared at the dark ceiling. She was alone again. Ancom was doing something with her creepy friend, whether on the behalf of the capitalist clan or not she didn’t know.

Nobody gave her any tasks. Probably a wise decision; if everyone stayed away from her she’d have no more opportunities to…to what, actually?

She frowned at the ceiling. She still stayed in Ancap’s room, refusing to go back to her own if she didn’t have to. She hated that place; it almost felt cursed at this point.

Her left eye throbbed horribly; Ancom had told her to ice it while they were away, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up and fetch something that would make her even colder than she already was.

Then again, it was probably good that she was cold, numb; otherwise she might just overheat on panicky worry and guilt. Might do something drastic.

She thought back to Ancom crying on the floor; the throbbing got worse when she furrowed her brows, unhappily trying to get rid of the image and everything associated with it.

She squeezed her eyes shut in spite, or maybe because of the pain that it caused, but the memories played backwards; back to the capitalist cousins ushering her out of her stained clothes and into a shower, Libertarian talking to the ambulance driver while she stood to the side, about to faint; Ancom’s petrified stare as the brunette called the hospital, Nazi’s eyes locking on their deep green ones; back to being trapped under Commie’s heavy shape, feeling something warm and terrifying spread through her uniform and across her stomach, her hand, still clasping the gun, stuck between them and getting increasingly wet and she panicked, harshly pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until the blooming stars blocked out the rest of the visions.

Somehow, in some way, she felt that the way she and Ancom saw her were unfair; an enraged Commie had surprised her from behind, struck her to the ground and she _wasn’t_ supposed to defend herself? The better option was to let it happen?

Still she felt she was some kind of monster for it, only because she had luckily been prepared; that’s what she had the stupid thing for, right? To defend herself against bigger, stronger opponents?

She remembered buying it. She had seen the pretty pistol at an auction house and fallen in love; she had begged the seller to keep it around for her, that she’d have the money soon, but he called her out on being sixteen and too young to buy her own firearms in the first place. Dejected, she had decided to save the money she earned regardless, until her mother found it; she didn’t realize Nazi had been hiding it, and had a little talk with her that for every little bit of money she made she also had to give some to charity. Nazi had called the people the charity would go to filthy leeches in the most abrasive tone she could muster, which got her nothing but grounded and her earnings under closer surveillance.

It took forever – two years – to finally scrounge the sum together under the vigilant eye of her mother. In a stroke of luck seldom for Nazi’s life, the same seller still had the same gun and, recognizing the cute girl from two years prior, offered to sell it to her for the price that it had had back then; the listed price had obviously risen in the past years.

She bought it and carried it with her since then. It was always there, always within reach whenever her outfit allowed, or stuffed into whichever bag she was carrying; she had grown out of picking quite so many fights by then, but she knew it was still good to have in handy.

She had always fully expected to have to use it someday.

Throwing an arm above her forehead, she heard the apartment door open and close, soft feet tapping into the kitchen.

It was always like that with her, wasn’t it? She knew that an attack was coming, knew she’d have to defend herself. And when she did that properly, she was branded the villain.

Nonetheless, guilt pooled in her stomach when she realized Ancom was making dinner for her, and not for Commie.

Commie watched Libertarian fuss over Ancap. The latter continually tried to get her to talk about business, but her cousin insisted she rest no matter how annoyingly she bleated about nothing working out while she was stuck here.

Commie noticed with a sneer that Libertarian had brought Ancap snacks. Only Ancap.

Her sneer was replaced by furrowed brows as the girl’s touches became more and more overtly lingering, stroking, petting, caressing Ancap’s shoulders and arms; Commie had been around her own family often before she went off to college, but they had never been this touchy. She tilted her head, feeling slightly uncomfortable witnessing the strangely intimate scene. Maybe it was a cultural difference; Nazi had informed her that Slavs were considerably colder than western folks.

The dull ache in her abdomen spiked as she thought of the name.

Blocking out the bickering cousins, she closed her eyes and forced herself to think of Nazi. She hadn’t stayed to find out how exactly their little affair had gone down, rushing out to clear her thoughts the moment Ancom said the words.

 _Ancom_.

Ancom. The person that had dictated her every move since they moved in with them. At first she had considered them yet another liberal college student, but they quickly became everything and anything she ever thought of; just a little exercise in compassion in the beginning to spite the capitalist pig now sharing a hospital room with her, but soon a fully blown obsession where she invested precious time and energy she often didn’t have into fixing them and their life to fit her image of the ideal comrade.

Ancom was sweet and fun and susceptible to some of her ideas, but immune to many others. They cared about pointless things, didn’t have their priorities straight – or so Commie thought. She always viewed their passions as necessary evils to indulge in, not something valid. How could she see them as anything else? In a world openly dominated by Ancaps and Neoliberals it was hard to focus on vague and silly things like identity.

Nazi cared about identity. A lot. She believed it dictated one’s entire life, saw it as an unchanging staple of biology and belief that ate itself into every minute action. For her, it didn’t matter the system, as long as there were the right people in it, it would be fine.

She was very much like Ancom in that way; for Ancom, as long as the system was accepting of their identity they thought they could be happy. Both of them were impractical idealists with no sense of reality. They deserved each other.

A deep, strained frown etched itself into her face.

Ancom gently knocked on the door before sliding in, carrying a plate, some cutlery and a cup of water.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Nazi stated, watching them set down the items on the carpeted floor.

“I didn’t,” they grinned, and Nazi curiously peered over the edge of the bed; the plate only held a pile of nachos and some hummus.

“What did you bring the knives for?”

“I don’t know, maybe you spread the hummus on the nachos with a knife like an insane person.” It was a joke, but Nazi swallowed.

“Not that insane yet,” she mumbled, trying to sound friendly. She was _so_ bad at that; Ancap had to teach her how to do it right some day.

She took one of the nachos and tentatively dipped it into the hummus. She didn’t like hummus; it tasted not only dry, but foreign, and she didn’t like that it was vegan. She always felt like she hadn’t had a proper meal after eating vegan.

The crunching of the nachos filled the room, as well as the gentle humming of Ancap’s computers all still on and running; Ancom had wanted to turn them off to save energy while Ancap was away, but luckily the control freak had called to check in on the situation beforehand and screeched at Ancom not to touch her precious machines mining bitcoin for her.

“How are things progressing?” Nazi asked, listlessly chewing the dry rations.

Ancom leaned back on their elbows, speaking with a full mouth. “Not at all. Libertarian hasn’t found anything and without the others here and you out of order it’s kinda hard to get stuff done; especially because I still have to sneak around. At least Posadist helps me with that.” They tossed a chip into their open mouth. “And I think Libertarian is suspicious of me. She refuses to tell me anything, I have to get all of my information from Ancap.” They swallowed. “Commie’s awake, by the way.”

“Why is Libertarian suspicious of you?” Nazi asked, refusing to acknowledge the last part.

Ancom sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, uhm,” they looked off to the side, “I have to tell you something.”

Nazi raised her brows, also sitting up properly. “Shoot.” She flinched. _Moron_.

“I was the one who gave Neoliberal the paperwork for the, uh, takeover.”

Nazi tilted her head. “How did you even have it in the first place?”

“Snatched it from Ancap’s room.”

She had to laugh. “What, did that paranoid asshole leave her door unlocked as well?” she leered with schadenfreude.

“Why are you not more pis- Whatever. No, I’m just a really good pickpocket. Stole her keys, took the papers, then put the keys into her stupid robe.”

The laughing turned into cackling. “Hilarious. Nice job,” Nazi grabbed a handful of chips at once.

“How is this funny to you? You got your room searched because of me! They-”

“Leave it, Ancom,” she laboriously swallowed down the mass of nachos. “Lefties are traitorous. Not exactly unexpected. I thought it was going to be Commie, so I guess that’s a twist, but if I’m honest ‘Ancapistan’ was such a hellhole _I_ would’ve done it soon if nobody else had made a move.” She reached out to pinch Ancom’s cheeks. “Adorable that you’d think I’d give a shit.” She grinned and it felt...strangely genuine; it wasn’t entirely friendly or pleasant, but it was honest. “Think about what happened in the meantime. Ancap had a heart attack from all the fucking cocaine she had to do to keep up with the stress, and I shot your girlfriend. We have bigger problems than this nonsense.”

Ancom grimaced, eyes slightly hopeful. “I hope Ancap will feel the same way.”

“She won’t.” Nazi reveled for a moment in the cruelty, watching Ancom’s face fall; she felt somehow rejuvenated. So she wasn’t the only one who made mistakes.

Ancap finally got rid of Libertarian, huffing as she fell back into her bed. She cursed at the ceiling, rubbing her face with one hand while the other blindly reached for the package of chips her cousin had brought. She struggled disconcertingly long with opening the pack, prompting Commie to hold out her hand. Ancap handed her the chips with an annoyed sigh.

“This is never going to work out,” Ancap sounded terribly worn, “never in a million years.”

Commie ripped open the package with faked ease, feeling a distinct sting as her abdomen tightened upon the exertion. She handed it back to Ancap, looking at the contents with vague disgust, but taking it anyway.

“I’m never fucking getting my property back,” she rambled as she listlessly threw a chip in her mouth, looking like she was about to spit it out right away. “The wackies aren’t trustworthy enough to give any kind of delicate task, not that any of them are up to it, Ancom is useless as always, and everybody’s too scared to even talk to Nazi. What a sorry bunch.” She leaned over the other side of the bed and actually spat the chip into the trashcan standing there.

“Don’t want your snack?” Commie asked, trying to sound disinterested; she was actually pretty hungry.

“Everything tastes like fucking dust,” Ancap spat, angrily throwing the pack on her nightstand.

“So you’re not eating that.”

“Have at it,” she picked the chips up again and tossed them at Commie.

The chips tasted fine; Commie wasn’t a fan of fast food or snacks, preferring to cook herself to eating horribly branded treats, but the chips really hit the spot right now.

“Why did you have to get yourself shot?” Ancap was talking more to herself than Commie.

Commie glowered.

Ancap rolled her eyes when she saw her expression. “Oh please, Commie. Get over it,” she shook her head, crossing her arms.

Commie would have loved to get up and pin Ancap to her bed, make her regret being an insensitive prick, but when her body only slightly tensed up, the ache from her torso made itself known again. Frustrated, she stayed put like the wound forced her to, hand clenching around the package of chips.

“What’s it to you? It’s neither here nor there where I am right now,” she muttered instead.

“No it’s not. When you helped me rifle through the docs Lib got from the county magistrate we were so much faster than I expected. I thought you were gonna bitch and moan, but no, you just did it. We got more shit done in that single night the other two were doing god knows what outside, than,” she trailed off, sinking further into her bed. "Than, you know, ever."

Commie grit her teeth, trying to search Ancap’s expression for a sign of insincerity.

“Do you know anything about that night?”

Ancap shot her a pitiful smirk. “Not really. But who cares. I think we both wasted enough of our energy on someone we were never really going to understand.”

That stung harder than any movement of her torso could have. Commie grimaced, unwilling to let go of herself around the kulak, even if she currently sounded comradely.

“I don’t judge you,” Ancap murmured, no longer looking at her. “They seem so malleable; I might’ve tried to manipulate them to my side too if you hadn’t swooped in beforehand.”

“I didn’t manipulate them!” Commie exclaimed, just a tad too loudly. Her wound ached.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.” The derisive chuckle drove Commie up the wall.

“How do _you_ sleep at night, buying and selling everything, including your and other’s bodies, huh?” she snapped. “Disgusting degenerate,” _that sounded a lot like Nazi_ , “do you buy your cousin, too? Or does she buy you?”

Ancap whipped her head around, scowling. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Commie matched her glare, sneering with bared teeth. “I’ve seen you two bill and coo. Did you convince her like you convinced Ancom that it’s somehow a joke and not exploitation?”

“What are you going on about? We’re just close, or is that illegal too now, you fucking dictator?”

Commie just snorted.

“At least I like my family,” Ancap spat.

Now, Commie frowned. “I like my family, too.”

Another derisive chuckle. “But they don’t really like you back, do they?” A horribly triumphant grin spread across Ancap’s face before immediately falling off again; Commie’s shoulders slumped and her spite and anger dissipated, leaving only hurt behind.

“How do you know?” her voice was quiet.

Ancap began to fidget with the hem of her blanket. “You leave your diary open in the kitchen. Very poetic, by the way,” she grinned amicably.

Commie didn’t return the sentiment, only forlornly staring ahead.

“Hey, at least you’re not alone. As far as I know, both of our roomies got thrown out.”

She bit her lip.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No. it’s not interesting and you read all about it anyway already, so what’s the point.”

More fidgeting. “If it’s any consolation, your fam sounds like a bunch of dickheads.”

“Don’t insult them.”

“Sorry.”

A few moments of silence, with Commie brooding as Ancap watched.

The quiet was broken by a faint vibration. Glad for the distraction, Ancap fished out her phone.

“Oh my god!” she couldn’t help but exclaim, “I got a massive payout just now!” she excitedly turned the phone screen so that Commie could read it; the taller girl first tried to ignore her, but eventually caved and looked over.

She raised her brows. “Wow. That _is_ massive. I wonder how many pension plans got ruined there.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ancap directed her gaze back at the phone.

She happily tapped away as Commie looked the other direction, still lost in thought.

“Hey, Commie?” Ancap always sounded so friendly.

She hummed in response.

“I meant what I said earlier. You’re really efficient.”

She nodded.

“But only when Ancom isn’t around.”

They were entangled again and Nazi was starting to believe that she was actually doing something right for once in her life; Ancom was panting heavily, desperate whimpers directed up at her. Her hand covered theirs, fingers interlaced and she could feel every time the hand spasmed, trying to break free; but Ancom liked it when she pushed them down, and she liked doing the pushing. Yet, the resistance was somehow honest, unlike the degenerate facsimile that Homonationalist had offered; she felt like she was actually hurting Ancom, but it was still the right thing to do. For once, what she wanted and what she was supposed to do were one and the same.

She heard them squeal the branding nickname the apartment had given her when she moved in and pushed harder on instinct.

Why was Ancom even still here? Were they doubling down now that they had gotten her and Commie to nearly kill each other over them? Or were they simply enjoying themselves in the moment?

She believed the strangled moan Ancom released might give her the answer as her own breathing became louder, more fervent.

Ancom opened their eyes for a moment, stained by pained ecstasy, and Nazi leaned down to kiss them, hungry and ravaging. As their tongues curled around each other, hollow doubt spread through her chest. Ancom had never answered her unspoken question.

And she feared she knew the answer.

Forcing herself to wrench herself away from the kiss that she wished to last much longer, go much deeper, she told herself it was better than nothing to enjoy this while it lasted; enjoy Ancom before they remembered that they thought she was a monster.

Because the answer was always going to be no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this angsty mess of a chapter


	32. Chapter 32

Ancom nervously walked up and down the room, indecisively staring at their phone.

“Dear Lord, just fucking do it,” Nazi said from her perch on Ancap’s bed. Nobody had made her leave yet and she was intent on staying no matter how disapproving Libertarian’s glances became. The moderate coward never dared say anything anyway.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen,” Ancom more stated than asked in a valiant attempt to reassure themselves.

“She might have another heart attack and die.”

The frown Ancom threw her was absolutely delightful. Ancom always left her alone during the day to go hang out with Posadist or try to follow Libertarian’s orders, and so Nazi had grown rather restless, unable to occupy herself with her usual hobbies; her fingers still shook, so sowing was out of the question, and no way in hell was she touching her rifle. All she did was scroll through image boards in hopes of a good meme, but that got stale real quick.

Ancom would luckily always come back to her in between tasks and in the evening to talk, eventually devolving into them getting horny off of her teasing and crawling into bed with her. Weak willed idiot.

_Don’t._

She swallowed. “Even if she does, she’s at the hospital right? What better place is there to have a heart attack?” she tried to soften her last statement and the hopeful expression she was gifted with in return was both rewarding and nauseating.

Commie was still healing from the gunshot while Ancap was technically taking a cure to reduce the risk of another stress (and drug) related illness, and so the two of them were alone in the flat; Ancom still snuck around like they were illegal and while at first that had been annoying, Nazi eventually ended up entertained by it.

“Do you think Commie already told her?”

“I think you’d know that.”

“What if she has, like, a secret plan for revenge?”

Nazi rolled her eyes. “Just do it Ancom, this is getting really boring.”

The sighed deeply, gathering their courage before pressing call.

Ancap picked up immediately like the phone addict she was, not even letting Ancom greet her before she loudly rambled something or other at them. Shaking her head, Nazi considered heavily to leave the room and let Ancom have their privacy; they really should be the one who’s leaving if they wanted to be alone, but Nazi was already getting strained listening to them trying to get Ancap to shut up for the two seconds they needed to speak.

She swung herself upright, saluting a distracted Ancom as she went to the kitchen, closing the door behind her. Maybe she could be persuaded to make herself some food that wasn’t vegan for a change. That sounded nice.

As Nazi dumped some of the vegetables she had cut into the pan, she heard Ancom whining. She chose to ignore it, just like she ignored the fact that they would nag up a storm if they saw how much of the potatoes she cut off, crying about food waste. No way in hell was she eating anything that even remotely touched those strange stains that potatoes tended to have; she chuckled as she envisioned Ancom digging around the trashcan to pick up what Nazi had considered inedible.

“ _I’m_ _sorry!_ ” Ancom sobbed from Ancap’s room.

Nazi looked up, listening on; she nearly burned the onions, cursing as she angled her head back towards the task at hand. More unidentifiable noises drifted over to her, the only thing they had in common being the bereft tone.

Nazi caught herself frowning at the pan; she knew it wasn’t fun to have to admit having done something wrong. She remembered the first time she had ever been properly reprimanded; she and her sister had fought over a doll. It had been a short fight; Nazi had pinched her sister so hard she’d started crying and then wrenched the toy forcefully from her grip. When her mother had come in asking what in the Lord’s name she was doing, she had innocently explained that they’d both wanted that doll, and she was the stronger one, so she got it. Her mother had called her nasty and taken the toy away from her and given it to her still crying sister while Nazi got grounded for the very first time in her life.

She still wasn’t entirely sure whether the biggest injury had been losing the doll or being called nasty. Her sister for one had never forgiven her the incident and Nazi was painfully aware that she had been right in doing so; Nazi would’ve taken what she wanted by force every single time if she hadn’t known her sister wouldn’t hesitate to call their mother.

The worst part was just _being_ nasty.

That was what Ancom was suffering through right now. Being nasty and being called nasty and all that nastiness hadn’t even gotten them anything. Just like Nazi had never gotten her doll.

Ancom was still on the phone when Nazi had finished her meal; she put a lid on the pan and wrote Ancom a little note that it was for them, but not vegan. She wondered if they’d eat it out of desperation for a warm meal. They themselves couldn’t cook for shit.

Nazi decided to take a short walk to kill the time; she considered locking Ancom in the apartment for a moment to make sure they wouldn’t get found, but remembered Neoliberal had a key to all apartments anyway. And Ancom would hate her for imprisoning them.

As she stood in the hallway waiting for the elevator, Posadist and a certain scraggly brunette came out of the stairwell.

“Nazbol!” she called out; somehow, she was glad to run into her colleague.

“Hey!” Nazbol seemed elated that she was so happy to see her. Posadist gave them both a slight wave before slinking back off into her room. “How’s it going? Did you clean your gun properly? Blood can make it rust, even though you’d think that they’d make them resistant against that, right?”

Nazi was taken aback by how blunt Nazbol’s rambling was; everyone treaded eggshells around her these days, if they talked to her at all, but Nazbol didn’t even seem to notice that she was being exceptionally rude. On the inside, Nazi still winced as the memory of the blood splattering on her stomach came back to life after having remained buried for the past couple of hours, but she refused to let it show.

“The capitalist cousins took care of it. I’m sure they know how to handle their guns,” she smirked.

Nazbol nodded thoughtfully.

“So, when did you move in here? I thought you lived with your parents?”

Nazbol laughed awkwardly; it sounded more than fake. “Ah, yeah. No, I wanted to try independence, like you said, right?”

Nazi squinted, but kept her expression light. She was really enjoying someone not being scared to death of her for a change.

“Do you study at college now, then?”

“No no, not at all. I hate that fancy nonsense. But I did let some of the others here teach me some useful stuff! One of my roomies is really into tech, and Posadist let’s me borrow the tools she got from Commie’s friends and I let her use my parents’ workshop and so on. It’s really great!”

Nazi tilted her head. Then she twitched. “Wait a second. How did you know about,” she caught a glance at the camera in the hallway; refusing to rely on Commie’s program still working, she unceremoniously pulled Nazbol into her flat. “The walls have eyes and all that,” she mumbled in explanation as she threw the door closed. “How did you know about the thing with the gun? I thought you still had work that day,” she whispered.

“Oh, Posadist told me! She’s very friendly,” Nazbol smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t blab.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like you.”

Nazi stood there, perplexed. She didn’t feel like asking any followup questions, preferring to bask in the sudden warmth that overcame her.

 _Pathetic,_ a destructive voice sneered.

“Okay. Well. So, you like it here?” she stammered, if only to get her head to shut up.

Nazbol shrugged. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“The centrists don’t harass you?”

She shrugged again. “Nope.”

Nazi nodded, slowly. “Ah.”

“Yup. Well, gotta get going, I need to help Posadist with something,” she smiled brightly and left.

Befuddled, Nazi stared after her for some moments. She started when she heard the creaking of Ancap’s door.

Ancom leaned out through the small gap, looking at the floor. “Hey.” Their voice was tiny.

“How did she take it?” It came out more confrontational than she meant it.

Ancom slowly slid forward from behind the door, still not facing her. “Can we go to your room? I- I don’t feel so good in hers a- anymore,” they mumbled.

Nazi frowned, a steely rejection about to escape her.

“Please?” Ancom looked up at her with watery, pleading eyes and the feeling that settled in her gut was a wild mix of aching desire and a weird kind of sorrow, a pain that wasn’t hers.

She silenced the awful voice threatening to spill out of her mouth and motioned at her door, gesturing for Ancom to lead the way.

They snuck across the hallway, hurrying as if she might change her mind if they took too long and Nazi, steps heavy, followed after them; entering her room felt neither cathartic enough to be relieving nor uncomfortable enough to repel her.

Ancom huddled up on the floor, leaning against her bed frame while Nazi took in the gloomy atmosphere of the room, stuffy since the window hadn’t been opened in the past couple of days. Directing her gaze down at Ancom, she heavily debated sitting in her desk chair to remain in a higher position, but she refrained; the part of her that wanted nothing more than for Ancom to continue coming back to her in the evenings and nights for the rest of her life won over the one that liked to needlessly assert itself over others.

She first crouched down before noticing that her bones were not made for crouching, settling on sitting on the floor instead, one arm resting on her propped up knee while the other stabilized her.

“Can you come sit next to me?”

She nodded.

Commie feared Ancap might explode; if she could, she would’ve launched an airstrike on the apartment building right now, or so she had reiterated multiple times ever since that grating call had ended.

Ancap had had the courtesy to leave the room for the phone call, considering Commie couldn’t move very easily, but had since returned, still fuming, even if quieter; her betrayed yelling and clamoring had sounded over to Commie’s bed from the lounge two rooms away, cut up by long stretches of silence in which she probably talked at a normal volume.

“You’re going to have another heart attack.”

“Will you shut up about that? I’ll have a fucking heart attack whenever I fucking please you goddamn statist!” she hissed, interrupting her pacing momentarily to glower at Commie, innocently trying to rest. Commie’s words seemed to have had an impact nonetheless, as she dropped onto the visitor’s chair standing at the wall opposite of Commie, burying her face in her hands.

“I hate being stuck in this fucking hospital. I hate it so much,” she muttered into her hands. She rubbed them across her face, stroking back her hair as she leaned against the wall.

“I thought about the things you said some days ago.”

“Yeah?” Ancap didn’t look at her, gaze directed at the ceiling; she sounded only vaguely interested.

“Yes. I do not like being here either. But,” Ancap angled her face to look at her, one brow raised, “maybe it is good that we are here. To get away.”

Ancap closed her eyes, exhaling loudly before opening them again. “What?”

“Have you ever seen the other two study?”

Ancap squinted. “You know as well as I do now that that little traitor didn’t visit their classes. And Nazi always bragged about getting by without studying because she’s _so_ super smart. She said that _every time_ I couldn’t hang out with her because I was studying for a test. Her grades sucked ass, anyway.”

“That’s right,” Commie nodded, “while those two were doing nothing of value whatsoever we both invested our energy into our degrees and our...passion projects.”

She paused, looking meaningfully at Ancap. The latter didn’t react at all.

“What I’m trying to say is that maybe we should use this time to gain a new perspective so we can refocus our energy.”

Ancap crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You got all that Dalai Lama nonsense from me telling you to get over Ancom?”

“Maybe I’m telling you to get over them as well.”

Ancap threw her arms up. “This isn’t stupid romance drama, Commie! They got me to lose a whole _bunch_ of money that I’m _never_ getting back, understand? Do you know how hard I worked to get ownership of that house? Some of my family still doesn’t talk to me, but it would all have been worth it if I actually got to keep it!” She kicked the nearby cabinet. “It was fucking hard to get it and really fucking hard to keep it as well. You know why I even started taking uppers? Coke? The reason I’m here now?" she gestured wildly around the room. "Because I was trying to protect my property from being looted by sulking leeches. There just weren’t enough hours in the day anymore to do it all at once and I needed the drugs to keep up.” She aggressively got up from her chair, rattling in her wake. “And all that just so a stupid pissy piece of shit with nothing to their name can fucking _steal_ my reports out of _spite_?” She kicked the trashcan by her bedside, loudly knocking it over.

Commie frowned, watching the impotent raging of her roommate with increased concern. Ancap was really going to work herself up into another heart attack if she didn’t do anything. Or maybe she’d start crying; even worse.

“I thought you were on good terms with your family?” she tried to steer the conversation into a more mellow – albeit equally sad – direction.

Ancap grimaced, waving her head as her hand came down to fist the blankets on her hospital bed. “Yeah, some of them. Minarchist is a pushover and Hoppean was happy as long as I made sure she only had to share her room with someone of superior blood. Aka a family member.”

Commie raised a brow.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Leave it.” She sat down sideways on the bed, staring at the wall. “And Libertarian came around eventually, even though she honestly started this whole nonsense. But some others...let’s just say I go to most family dinners armed nowadays.”

“You’re like Nazi,” Commie said more harshly than was sensible while trying to get someone to calm down.

Ancap rolled her eyes at her, chuckling condescendingly. “Unlike her, I never looked forward to using it.”

Commie flinched, face flushing from the embarrassment of Ancap seeing it. _Bang. Bang. Bang. Ba-_

Ancap’s sharp grin drooped, looking awkward and regretful. “No, I’m...sorry.” She heaved herself fully onto her bed, gaze directed straight ahead again. “I, I don’t know what Nazi...you know what, let’s not talk about her. I just had a heart attack at twenty-four and I still don’t wanna switch with her if I’m honest,” she laughed.

Commie furrowed her brows, mostly occupied with blocking out the images threatening to creep into her vision.

“I just,” Ancap fisted her blanket again, absentmindedly covering herself with it, “it’s not like I don’t get it; I got Libertarian to some extent as well. I just hate that Ancom didn’t even do it for their own personal gain; they just fucked all of us over for no good reason.”

A short silence as Ancap pressed her lips into a tight line; at least she wasn’t at the brink of a heart attack anymore.

“Maybe,” Commie began, gently, “we both expected more of them than they could deliver.”

Ancap turned to face her, expression somewhere between sad and distressed. “They always talked like they had the moral high ground. I was a stupid idiot for believing it, huh?” she put on a wrangled grin.

“You could call it false advertising,” Commie returned the gesture. “I also thought their constant harping on kindness would make them the ideal comrade and protect me from them ever doing anything to hurt me, even,” she swallowed, “even when it was already obvious something was going to happen.” It felt good to say out loud, even if it hurt at the same time. Like ripping off a bandage.

Ancap fell back into her pillows. “I could’ve just thrown them out,” she said, eyes flitting towards Commie, “but I didn’t. Instead I installed police that basically terrorized everyone like some fucking dictator.”

“Just like I went out to do god knows what to Nazi as if that would change anything.” Now she had to chuckle. “Nazi of all people. The unluckiest person I know,” she rubbed a hand over her face. It was ridiculous in hindsight, going after a hapless loser when Ancom had been the one to hurt her. And even if she had gotten to Nazi, what then? Hope that Ancom would love her because she killed the next best lover they found?

Ancom made her angry. All the time, from the very beginning; she had always been anxious around them, walking on tiptoes because Ancom made her feel lesser, like a bad person, not really worthy of their affection. That’s what made it even more alluring to manipulate them, get them on her side. Once she managed that, she had the moral high ground. And as long as she kept a tight grasp on them, they couldn’t harm her; they seemed so very harmless with how they claimed kindness for themselves, it seemed like just a slight overstepping of moral boundaries should be sufficient to keep them in line, since they could never retaliate.

But it had all been facade. Ancom had turned out human like everyone else, just as prone to doing wrong without even noticing as Commie was.

“Pretty, pretty facade,” Commie murmured as she relaxed in her bed; she imagined the dull ache around her wound had decreased. “I think...I don’t think any of that was good for me. It brought out my worst qualities and if I’m honest I,” she took a deep breath, “I don’t want anything more to do with this.”

“You’ll just let the gunshot wound slide?” Ancap asked skeptically.

“I think that’s the only way out. What else am I supposed to do? Shoot Nazi? Got to jail? No,” she shook her head. “I’m done.”

Nazi’s lower back was beginning to ache from sitting on the floor for so long. She had listened to Ancom’s sorrowful wailing for the past hour or so; Ancap had apparently been _very_ angry.

Not that it wasn’t cute to see Ancom’s reddened, puffy eyes and have them curl up into her shoulder, tightly clutching at her arm no matter how often Nazi told them that that was the bad arm and that they should be gentle. They kept forgetting, fingers digging into the old bruises and Nazi just learned to live with the pain.

But Nazi was confused as to why she was here. The last encounter at the bridge had made it very clear to her that Ancom still hated her and that she’d have to change herself entirely to gain their favor, something she refused to do. So why was Ancom looking for emotional support with her? They could just go to their creepy friend’s room, everything had to be better than crying to someone they despised.

Thus far Nazi had assumed that the extended company they gifted her with was mostly due to their inability to keep their libido in check, something Ancap had referenced uncomfortably often during their shooting dates.

So this must've been the same, right?

Fingers running under Ancom’s chin, reveling in the soft skin, Nazi tilted their head upwards to face her. She kissed them, thoroughly as usual. They wrapped their arms around her neck and she leaned over, beginning to pin them to the ground.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Ancom pulled away and vainly pushing at her shoulders. She wasn't really used to giving in.

“Having sex with you, what else?”

Ancom furrowed their brows and shook their head, trying to wind out from under her. Nazi didn’t move at first, but Ancom’s pushing became harder and their face less and less pliant, so she released them, sitting back up.

“I don’t want to have sex with you right now,” they croaked disbelievingly, “I’m really upset.”

“So?” Nazi asked, confused. “Why else are you here if not because you want me to fuck you?”

Ancom turned up their palms, brows furrowing even more. “I want you to comfort me, you dumbass!”

“Don’t screw with me Ancom. I’m not falling for it.”

“I’m not screwing with you!” they raised their voice, getting to their feet. Nazi followed suit.

“Sure, yeah,” Nazi grinned condescendingly, “you come to my room every evening for awkward small talk until you finally decide to crawl into bed with me because you just want to talk.”

“You know what? You’re a dick and I don’t know why I thought this would work,” they spat, turning around to leave.

“You could’ve just gone to one of your friends instead of wasting my fucking time!” Nazi shouted after them. A knot formed in her stomach; it wasn’t like she waited all day for that awkward evening small talk, no.

“They were _busy_ , and I- just, leave me alone, okay?” they stood in the doorway, hand on the handle.

“Fine! Go!” Nazi threw her arms up, watching with increasing inner panic as Ancom shook their head one last time before heading out, slamming the door.

She breathed heavily, staring at the door. God fucking damn it, she hated herself so, so much. She wasn’t sure yet for what this time, but it ate her up from the inside, from where the aching knot had formed it spread outwards and she was so sick of feeling this way.

Nazi had to cough; a dust particle got stuck in her throat. It hurt and pissed her off even more.

Then it began to smell strange. She had to cough again.

A dull thud in the hallway outside, like a body collapsing to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope any of what I wrote here made sense to someone not stuck inside my head ^^"
> 
> Very long chapter this time around, phew. Please enjoy!


	33. Chapter 33

Nazi rushed out the door; her eyes stung, getting wet when she saw that it really was Ancom whose lifeless body was lying on the floor. The hallway seemed hazy and Nazi hurriedly picked them up, hoisting their arm over her shoulder to drag them back into their flat.

She coughed again; something was wrong with the air, her throat hurt and she was getting a headache.

She stumbled over to the kitchen window, clumsy with Ancom weighing her down, and noted to her horror that the window was stuck; she didn’t take the time to examine why, instead rushing over to her room, dropping Ancom on her bed and trying her own window; stuck as well. Somehow not surprised, she quickly slid over to her cupboard, distressedly fumbling around with the fake back wall behind which she had hidden her rifle. She got it out, ran back to the window, hitting the glass with the barrel like a hammer; it took several tries, but she eventually got it to to create a medium sized hole.

As the fresh air entered through it, the stench of the room became much more noticeable; Nazi felt lightheaded, but she forced herself to remain focused when her eyes drifted over Ancom, still not moving.

She grabbed a piece of thick fabric from her desk and held it over her mouth and nose; the stench was getting overwhelming. She clumsily dragged Ancom closer to the hole in the window with one hand, then tripped over to the bathroom, frenetically ripping out the shower curtain and rummaging in the junk drawer for some duct tape.

Within less than a minute she had created a little tent around her and Ancom, and of course the hole in the window; the stench was terrible and she wanted to vomit every time she inhaled, but with the occasional bits of fresh air wafting in from outside it became bearable. She lightly shook Ancom, splashing them with a handful of water droplets from a bottle she had wisely taken with her into the makeshift tent.

She hadn’t noticed how horribly loudly her heart had been pounding until it skipped a beat when Ancom stirred. More on instinct than anything else, she pulled them close, cradling their head.

“Are you okay?” her voice sounded unusually raspy and she had suppress retching as the next inhale brought in more of the disgusting gas. She coughed.

Ancom grimaced, holding a hand to their head “What’s going on?”

Nazi ignored them in favor of holding them tighter; Ancom also coughed, much more violently than Nazi had and she repressed the whimper when she had to release them so that they could sputter freely.

“Ancom, I’m sorry,” Nazi exclaimed between their heavy breathing. She choked on the next words, and a little on the disgusting air. “Please tell me you’re okay.” She hated how pleading she sounded.

Ancom nodded heavily. “I, I walked out and suddenly there was a hissing and then my throat hurt,” they coughed again and she handed them the bottle, “then I felt dizzy and just...woke up here,” they looked up at her, huddled awfully close together under the tight tent. “It stinks like….kinda familiar,” they looked around their weird alcove as if that would jostle their memory.

“I- I thought you had a heart attack or something, like Ancap, and,” she stopped herself from reaching out, “I was so fucking scared you were going to- that something happened to you.” She swallowed, mentally cowering under Ancom’s distrustful squint.

“Please don’t look at me like that.” This time she did reach out, clasping Ancom’s hand in hers, but they pulled it away; it was a small motion, but her heart cramped up horribly painfully.

Suddenly, something clicked in Nazi's mind. Her eyes went wide as realization struck her; this one moment, her reaching out and Ancom retreating – the puzzle pieces fell together.

“You...Ancom, I..,” she trailed off. Her head still hurt.

Ancom didn’t move.

Ancom wasn’t weak for coming back to her every evening. They just liked her. And maybe, just maybe, it was self-destructive to consider everyone who liked her to be beneath her.

Maybe that was really, really stupid.

Maybe Ancap didn’t just hang out with her to sell her weapons, but just lied about that because she also had a screwed up view of relationships. Maybe Commie didn’t play Call of Duty with her in moments of weakness, but because they had shared outlooks on responsibility.

Maybe the version of her from under the bridge, drunk and low and about to fall into a river, was right. Some people liked her and they were allowed to do that.

She leaned forward and captured Ancom’s lips in a kiss, much gentler, deeper than usual. Ancom tried to push her away at first, surely struggling for air as they still sat in the horrible mire of rancid gas. She pulled away, letting Ancom sputter up phlegm, gently patting their back and keeping their foreheads together.

“Ancom, I,” her fingers curled in their hair, their pretty green eyes looking up at her through thick, dark lashes; she nearly forgot about their surroundings, finally fully coming to terms with the fact that maybe, this time around, she could actually get what she wanted. That she hadn’t ruined it yet, that despite the hundreds of missteps she had made, she still had a chance.

She wanted to say the words, tie her and Ancom together forever just by letting them know.

“We should call 911,” she said instead, taking Ancom’s phone when they, taking a sip from the bottle, handed it to her.

She turned on the screen and was greeted with a flurry of text messages.

Scrunching her brows, she took a deep breath from near the window hole. “Posadist texted you,” she read more of the messages, “I think we should go to her room.”

Holding up the phone so that Ancom could see what their friend had written, they looked equally confused, but nodded.

“Here,” Nazi gave them the thick fabric she had covered her mouth with.

“What about you?” they asked, but took it anyway.

“I’ll hold my breath,” she gave them a tight smile.

On the count of three, Nazi ripped open the shower curtain construction and a wave of disgusting gas wafted over them; she blinked momentarily as her eyes watered, but they both quickly scurried out of the room regardless, finding their way through the thick fumes to the wackies’ apartment and knocking loudly. Nazi felt her face redden as she began running out of air after the short sprint, but even the small amount of gas drifting into her nose was so disgusting she dared not take a breath.

As they waited with literal baited breaths for Posadist to open, Ancom took Nazi’s hand. She looked down at it, then at them, heart fluttering in her chest. They returned her gaze before breaking out into another fit of coughs.

Finally, Posadist ripped open her door, wearing a gas mask and a hazmat suit, running back to her room.

Nazi was stunned as they entered it; what had once been a simple fortified door had turned into a proper double door system capable of keeping most of the terribly foul gas out of her room as they passed through it. She noted bits of the missing shower curtain had been used to create the insulation, and was completely taken aback by the sheer number of water bottles, gas masks, and hazmat suits, as well as plenty of other strange stuff she could hardly identify that littered the completely cramped room. The window was closed and so were the blinds; a strange choice, but the breath of surprisingly clean air Nazi was able to take once inside washed away all desires to nag.

Posadist took off her mask, shaking loose her thick braid as she plopped down on her oversized desk chair.

Once she had somewhat regained her breath, Nazi swiveled around to draw Ancom into a tight embrace, burying her face in their hair as she tightly clasped at their hoodie.

“I’m so happy that you’re okay,” she muttered quietly into their ear, reveling in the small whimper she got in return.

“Didn’t you read my messages?” Posadist asked Ancom, completely ignoring Nazi. The latter released Ancom with a heavy heart, though she didn’t let them separate from her completely, keeping a hand around their waist.

Ancom swallowed down what seemed to be a big chunk of phlegm before answering. “No,” they shook their head, “I was on the phone with Ancap and,” they swallowed, “didn’t want to get interrupted.”

“Ah,” Posadist jerked up her brows. “Well if you had read my messages you would’ve known to come to my room today.”

“Excuse me, what the fuck is going on?” Nazi stepped in.

Posadist turned her head slightly to face her, expression unreadable. “I’m getting rid of Neoliberal.”

“ _What_?” Ancap shouted into her phone. “No, Libertarian, don’t fucking dare hang up on me, no-”

Commie watched with a mix of amusement and concern as Ancap disbelievingly stared at her phone for several seconds.

“What’s going on?” she asked with some bemusement.

Ancap slowly turned to face her, looking frazzled. “Apparently there was a poison gas attack on the building. Three people are missing, the rest made it outside.”

Commie frowned.

“Yep. Exactly. Nazi, and Ancom. And Posadist.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, expressions mirror images of one another.

“Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.”

Posadist was playing around with some program on her computer; as far as Nazi could tell she was checking the levels of the gas coming from the pipes she had apparently been secretly installing over the past weeks; the small girl refused to answer her questions in a particularly helpful manner, but she had been able to gather that Ancom had unwittingly been installing gas tanks and other modules for her, while Commie’s nerdy engineering friends had supplied her both with the piping and expertise necessary to run the whole contraption as well as kinda-sorta telling her how to make the gas.

She had asked how long Posadist had been working on this ‘art project’, as she still called it, and the cryptic answer she had gotten pointed to since before Neoliberal was even in the picture. She also seemed to not have been a fan of the guards, so maybe that was the tipping point.

“Did you also break the window frames so you can’t open them anymore?” she asked from her perch on the floor, holding Ancom close to her.

Posadist nodded, concentrated on the program. “Wouldn’t want people to just breathe in fresh air.”

“How did you get in?”

“Anarcho-monarchy.”

Nazi nodded; Posadist didn’t really seem to want her around all that much, more putting up with her presence for Ancom’s sake than anything else.

She’d take it. While the smaller girl fretted away at her program, her and Ancom’s hands were intertwined while her other arm held them tightly at the waist. Ancom occasionally whispered something in her ear; she often only heard snippets, afraid to ask what they meant with Posadist right next to them. None of that helped clear up what exactly Posadist’s plan was. Kill everyone?

It took some time before Commie, still somewhat stiff around the waist, had maneuvered herself into Ancap’s car, as well as a threat to the staff to let Commie go in the first place, but they were already on the way, Ancap in the driver’s seat while Commie checked her texts for her.

“Your cousin says it’s not poison gas, as it turns out. Or, at least not a potent one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she shortly averted her gaze from the street to scowl at her phone, nearly running a red light. “Either it’s poisonous or it’s not.”

“They found them!” Commie exclaimed, excited, before wincing as her wound piped up. She held a hand to her abdomen and continued reading. “Someone called the fire department and they found all three of them huddled together in Posadist’s room.”

“Are they okay?”

“As far as Libertarian can tell, yes. Although, Ancom is under surveillance; they seemed to have breathed in just when a large batch of gas was released right into their face and fainted.”

Ancap looked over at Commie. “Is it poisonous or not now? I’m still not clear on that.”

“Libertarian is texting me that as we speak.”

“Forget it,” the car roughly came to a halt and Commie’s vision momentarily went white as the seat belt dug into her bandages, but she regained her senses quickly. “We’re here.”

“How fast did you drive?” Commie asked, astounded, as they got out of the car.

“As fast as this piece of crap let me,” Ancap grinned before running over to the circle outside the building. Libertarian stood a little off to the side, still busy texting Ancap the updates until the latter approached her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“You managed!” she whispered.

“Of course I did.”

Ancap pushed her sunglasses up on her head, taking in the scene; it was chaotic, just like she liked it.

Most of the tenants were standing together with their roommates, except of course her cousins, who stood as a family as usual.

She spotted Nazi and Ancom, standing close to each other and holding hands.

“What’s the sitch?”

Libertarian leaned over, talking under her breath. “Okay, so, Posadist stank up the whole place. I had Minarchist talk to Ancom and Nazi just now, and she texted me that apparently, Posadist tried to kill everyone with poison gas.”

“What for?” Ancap furrowed her brows, looking for the small girl standing close to the center of the group and getting yelled at by the centrists.

Just at that moment, Commie had made it up to them, walking around the crowd while still holding her wound, and over to where Nazi and Ancom were standing. Libertarian tensed up, shaking Ancap’s arm.

“Relax,” Ancap said, confident.

They both watched as Commie laid a hand on Nazi’s shoulder, making her jump back in surprise. Nazi immediately dropped Ancom’s hand, but stood protectively in front of them and Ancap had to smirk when she saw her reflexively reach to her back for a gun that wasn’t there. It had been a good decision to have Minarchist safekeep the thing.

Commie said something, looking calm, and Ancap felt something akin to inspiration bubble up inside her when she saw Commie hold out her hand to Nazi in what looked like a peace offering. Nazi eyed the hand for a second, then shook it fervently. Had Ancap not stood quite so far away, she would’ve seen the tears in her eyes. Commie also laid a hand on Ancom’s shoulder, the latter bowing their head a little, then they both nodded and Commie walked back to Ancap again.

“So,” Libertarian seamlessly continued their conversation, “I didn’t really get what Posadist’s plan was, but she definitely didn’t succeed. The poison gas she tried to mix ended up being more of a stink bomb, not exactly healthy to breathe in, but not deadly either. Nobody lost consciousness except Ancom, who seems to just have gotten unlucky.”

“So,” Ancap looked at her cousin, “the building is just...stinky now?”

“Very stinky. You haven’t been in there, it’s wretched.”

Commie turned up next to them at the same time Neoliberal drove up to the group in her fancy car, looking furious. Ancap had wondered where she was.

She aggressively stalked up to the centrists and Posadist, expression livid. “What the fuck is this?” she yelled so loudly that Ancap could hear it clearly. She smirked; she wasn’t the only one whose property could be unfairly ruined.

“You stupid bitch damaged my private property!” she cursed at Posadist, looking less than impressed, going as far as occasionally glancing up at the sky; that girl knew no fear. “And you asswipes didn’t do shit!” she turned to her centrist friends, making them cower. “You know how the resale value of this thing has sunken? I can’t sell this shit when the whole interior is fucking foul.”

Ancap whistled. “Haven’t heard her curse yet,” she gloated as she crossed her arms.

At the opposite side of the circle, Ancom seemed to perk up, catching Ancap’s eyes and rushing over to her, leaving behind a very needy looking Nazi.

“I don’t think my friends would give Posadist a real recipe for poison gas. Or even proper stink bomb fuel. I told them to be careful around her after she gave Ancom those terrible drugs,” Commie muttered as she watched the scene play out. Ancap became more focused.

Ancom turned up next to her. “I know where I know the smell from!” they exclaimed, voice hushed and a little sore.

“I’ll need context on that, honey,” Ancap said amicably.

“The gas! I know it!” They stood on their tiptoes, whispering into Ancap’s ears. “We used to use it as a prank when I was still in high school. It doesn’t stain at all, the house will smell normal again in like two weeks.”

Ancap looked down at them, face breaking out in a huge grin.

“So you _are_ useful after all, huh?”

Ancom watched as she stalked up to the middle, tapping Neoliberal's shoulder.

“I'll buy it.”

Neoliberal swiveled around. “What?”

“I’ll buy it!”

Neoliberal squinted at her. “Oh Christ, it’s you. Are you really this petty?”

“Yes.”

They negotiated prices, offers and deals getting thrown out rapidly. Ancom imagined they saw Ancap wink at Posadist when she agreed to Neoliberal’s price _only_ if she agreed not to press charges against the wacky girl.

“Considering no one got hurt, I think that seems alright,” Ancap examined her nails, smugly looking up at Neoliberal.

The lawyer looked back at her property, ruined as far as she knew, then back Ancap.

“Agreed. Take back your cursed building and keep your freaks if you want,” she glowered at Posadist, still more occupied with the sky. “But only if you pay up front. I’m not waiting around for you to change your mind.”

“Do you take bitcoin?”

Neoliberal exasperatedly rubbed her face. “If I have to.”

“Trust me, it’s the future,” Ancap grinned, guiding her to a nearby park bench to finish the exchange.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Libertarian quietly said to Ancom while they both had their eyes on Ancap and Neoliberal sitting on the bench.

“Was I what?” Ancom played dumb.

Libertarian laughed. “I doubt you were on campus for lectures from all Ancap told me. I saw you.”

Ancom stuffed their hands into their hoodie pockets. “Why didn’t you just tell her if you suspected me?”

“I tried to,” she sighed, “but Ancap was so happy you finally caved in and did the right thing, she could barely hear me. And I didn’t want to ruin her illusion over a hunch.”

Ancom stared back over to the park bench where Ancap was enthusiastically showing Neoliberal her weird bitcoin app thing. She looked like herself again, legs wide open and crazily rambling something at someone only half listening.

“Maybe I should visit those classes,” they said into the wind.

“Don’t bother,” Libertarian shrugged. “It’s just a bunch of radical lefties talking about weird identity politics. I had to take a class as a soft skill, it was hell.”

Ancom perked up, but didn’t say anything. Maybe they were going to give them a shot. But only the ones that weren’t all that early in the morning.

At the other edge of the group, Nazi still stood, hands clasped tightly behind her back as she observed Ancom awkwardly talk to Libertarian while Commie hovered two feet away. She started when Nazbol suddenly appeared next to her.

“Hey, compatriot,” she grinned.

“Jesus, you scared me,” Nazi held a hand over her pounding heart.

“So, did Posadist let you in?”

Nazi tilted her head.

“During the attack, did she let you in? I specifically asked her to when she forbade me from telling you what was gonna happen.”

Nazi furrowed her brows, processing the words. “You knew about this nonsense?”

“I helped set it up.” More grinning.

“But,” Nazi shook her head, “but why?”

Nazbol shrugged. “Neoliberal is a capitalist pig and you complained about her all the time. Posadist promised she’d install a communist utopia with the people who survived the attack.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “And I’m pretty sure a nice little poison gas attack might dissuade new students from coming to college here in the next few years. Good way of preventing foreigners from moving into the neighborhood,” she gave Nazi a conspiratorial look.

Nazi released a bark of laughter. “I'm honestly amazed both of you thought this would work.”

“Well, Posadist said she had a plan, and I found her really convincing,” Nazbol looked over at the girl in question. Right at that moment, Posadist perked up, quickly rushing over to Ancom after finding them in the small crowd and tugging at their sleeve.

“Look!” she said, pointing at the sky.

Ancom did as they were told, and to their absolute confusion spotted a fleeting glint between the clouds.

“Told you,” Posadist smirked. “They just passed us by because I didn’t do it right. I forgot to lock the front door. Major oversight.”

Nazi leaned over to Nazbol. “Why is she so excited about a weather balloon?”

“Dunno,” Nazbol made to leave, “but my job here is done. I’m moving back in with my parents. Maybe you can complain less now and we can have fun again at work. Do you get along with your socialist friend now as well?”

Nazi couldn’t help but smile. “I- I think so yeah. Wasn’t easy though.”

“Called it!” Nazbol gloated before walking off.

Nazi shook her head as she watched the brunette walk away.

Ancom appeared next to her.

“What is it with all of you and sneaking around all the time?” she asked, though she wasn’t irritated.

“Hey, that was a valuable skill during Neoliberal’s reign.”

“Sure,” she pulled Ancom flush against her. “How’s your throat? And your head? Are you feeling alright?”

Ancom nodded. “It’s okay. I used to huff paint, it’s a bit like that.”

“Of course you did.”

They stared at Ancap and Neoliberal, both getting up from the bench to shake hands on the deal. Neoliberal seemed to relax a little now that she got at least a bit of money out of the whole ordeal and Ancap was practically glowing.

“What’s going to happen now?” Ancom asked, hugging Nazi’s arm.

She pressed a kiss to the top of their head. “I don’t know. But Team Extreme won, so it can only go up, right?”

“Right,” they smiled up at her.

Nazi swallowed. “I- I have to ask. Are we-”

“Yes, we are, Nazi.” They stood on their tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. “But you seriously need to stop with your obsession over labels. Doesn’t seem to be good for your mental health.”

Ancap bounded over in that moment, followed by a slightly limping Commie.

“What’s up, bitches?” Ancap beamed. “Let’s fucking party, right?”

“Where?” Ancom laughed, “it does take a couple of days before it’s livable in there again.”

She tapped her chin theatrically. “Hmm, where to go, where to go...maybe my parents’ mansion that happens to be free right now?”

Nazi tilted her head. “I thought your parents didn’t talk to you anymore.”

“Not now that I got Neoliberal to get the county off their ass about the campus housing rent rate,” she purred. “Let’s go, let’s go, my car’s right there.” She lead the way, the other three following her as she called over to her cousins to drive after them.

Commie and Ancom walked to the car next to each other while the rightists went ahead.

“I guess it takes the bourgeoisie to get rid of the bourgeoisie,” Commie joked.

Ancom giggled. “That and one crazy communist.”

Commie smiled at them. They smiled back.

Ancap got into the driver’s seat, Commie called shotgun while Nazi and Ancom sat in the back.

“Okay, Team Extreme, choose some music! It’s like a one hour drive,” Ancap called back as she pulled out of the driveway.

“I call the Koniggratzer Marsch,” Nazi butchered the name.

“Soviet Anthem,” Commie threw in.

“You guys are lame,” Ancom said, fist bumping Ancap before turning on music Posadist had made for them.

As the loud beat with the strange synths resounded through the car under the vocal complaining of the two authoritarians, Team Extreme drove off into the sunset.

Right then, their hand intertwined with Nazi’s while Commie and Ancap bickered about economics at the front, Ancom was glad they had taken the weird stranger’s offer in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. It's done. It's actually done. 33 days and 100000 words later it's actually done and wow does that not feel weird as all hell.
> 
> Really, really thank you to all those of you who enjoyed themselves, be it vocally or not. This was a really cool experience and honestly sweetened up the quarantine life a LOT. What could've been a terribly boring month became honestly kinda busy, in a good way. I loved reading all of your lovely comments, and I REALLY loved writing this, from the scenes that just dropped out of me to the stuff that just wouldn't come out right.
> 
> This is a weird niche in a niche, and it's really cool that so many people got something out of it. Thank you all and as always: I hope you enjoy!


	34. Epilogue

Ancom wandered over to Nazi’s room, attracted by the gentle whir of the sowing machine. And the fact that she had texted them. Texts from Nazi were more important even than reading Judith Butler, even though they could use what they read from the latter to annoy the others in the house.

“There you are,” Nazi turned off the machine, lifting up a green piece of clothing Ancom had yet to identify. “Come on, try it on.”

Ancom scrunched their brows at it as they flipped it in their hands; it was dark green and short and upon further inspection revealed itself to be a skort; shorts in the back, skirt in the front. The slipped out of their sweatpants while Nazi waited expectantly.

The room was brightly lit by the sunlight falling in through the window; Ancom had helped Nazi redecorate her room so it didn’t make her uncomfortable to be in it anymore, and most of the creepy decor had been reorganized to make it look more like the home of a collector than someone in dire need of a therapist. Ancom still wasn’t sure whether the suggestion to turn the gross flag into a bedspread instead of hanging it up for everyone to see had been a smart move, but Nazi had at least loved the idea of lying down on it to sleep every night It was always mysteriously in the wash when Ancom came to stay over.

When they had pulled on the skort, Nazi pursed her lips before fussing with their oversized graphic t-shirt, tucking it into the skort until she felt it looked right. Then she walked over to her closet, opening it to reveal the floor length mirror mounted on the inside of one of the doors; Ancom had also convinced her to donate some of her oldest dresses that were only clogging up space in the closet.

They gasped audibly when they saw themselves in their new outfit.

“I thought, you know, with the whole both-male-and-female-thing this would make sense?” Nazi said insecurely, coming up behind Ancom to keep fidgeting with the garments. “Not that real men wear pants this short but you know what I-”

Ancom interrupted her with a kiss, wrapping their arms around her neck. She startled, but quickly relaxed into it, putting her hand up to the small of their back.

“I love it,” Ancom giggled.

“You better. Do you know how hard it was to find a sowing pattern for this not-one-not-the-other nonsense?” Nazi grinned, hand snaking around their waist as they both looked in the mirror. They looked weird together, Ancom in their now updated trash-neon aesthetic and Nazi in the short sleeved version of her work uniform and a short skirt, but Ancom liked the contrast.

Outside, they heard Ancap and Commie returning home, bickering as they always did. Commie had drunk Ancap under the table at the party after the poison gas attack, convincing a very not lucid Ancap that she should get a say in how the building’s resources should be handled. Not fully aware of what that entailed since Commie had sweetened up the deal by calling it ‘organizational help free of a fee’, she had actually signed a contract giving Commie a plethora of authorities a sober Ancap would have never agreed to.

But violating contracts meant violating the NAP, and, as Libertarian had gleefully pointed out, Ancap had never cared whether the signature was given while drunk.

Ancap still owned the house, but Commie insisted a part of the extra revenue from rent went to communal services for the students in need of it; Ancap hated that and they fought over every single redistributed cent. Her screeching about ‘infernally communal washing machines’ still rung in Ancom’s ears.

Using those same special rights, Commie had secured not only Ancom, but several other ultra-low-income students a place to stay in one of the flats, made affordable for Ancap by Commie convincing her engineering friends of moving from their former housing buildings to this one on the promise of communal redistribution. Elated that more of her apartments were filled (having turned up half empty after the centrists had left with Neoliberal), Ancap had begrudgingly agreed. Ancom now lived in the same flat as Nihilist and an old friend of theirs, but they still mostly hung around the extremist’s flat. Their mattress was even back in the broom closet, even though they didn’t need it anymore; they preferred Nazi’s company during the night.

As the two economists entered the kitchen, still engrossed in their boring conversation about money, Ancom bounded out, excitedly showing off Nazi’s gift.

“Doesn’t it look cool?” they beamed, twirling around.

Ancap and Commie paused their argument for a moment, both raising their brows.

“Yeah, very cute, Ancom,” Ancap said, “but we’re talking about important things here, like money-”

“Money is a spook,” Ancom retorted, picking out a chocolate bar from the grocery bag under Ancap’s glare.

“Material conditions aren’t,” Commie condescendingly retorted, beginning to unpack the items.

“Your dreams are so small,” Ancom said while chewing on the chocolate bar. Nazi came into the room, letting herself be fed a bite of the bar as well.

“You two are just impractical,” Commie responded, smirking.

“That’s why your ideologies are always so short lived,” Ancap agreed, pointing at them with her pen.

“At least we’re trying,” Nazi said as she picked up another one of those chocolate bars for herself. “Have fun talking about boring stuff, you goobers,” she called as she dragged Ancom away and back to her room, the latter waving at the duo in passing.

As the door fell closed behind them, Nazi went to nuzzle their neck, maneuvering them so she could see Ancom in the mirror once more.

“Do you really like it?” she asked, hands holding their hips.

“Of course I do!” Ancom turned around, taking Nazi’s hands into their own. They bit their lip. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, if I'm honest. You’re the first who...tried to get it,” they smiled. “Thanks for not trying to change me."

“Pathetic,” Nazi joked while leaning down to capture Ancom in another kiss.

“You’re the one dating a degenerate. I’m just dating a pretty girl,” Ancom teased, walking over to the bed with her.

“Maybe degenerates are not all the same,” Nazi cooed as she crawled on top of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help myself, had to add this ^^ It was a nice day today and this fit it really well for me
> 
> Okay bye-


End file.
